United Again
by AdequateLexicon
Summary: Arthur gets a letter in the mail informing him of his school's ten year reunion. USxUK is the main pairing, but others may be hinted at through the course of the story.
1. You Are Cordially Invited

Arthur had officially known that his day (and, by extension, weekend) was going to be ruined the moment he had seen the letter.

Oh, sure, at first it had been safely hidden beneath the typical junk mail he recieved. All of it was typical mail, or so he had thought. People he owed money to, people who wanted his money, organizations who he usually ended up giving his money out of guilt. These were the people he often recieved mail from. However, when he saw that his former high school was the one sending him an envelope, he knew it wasn't his money they were after. No, they had to be after his dignity. Or at the very least what was left of it.

Sighing, he held the letter in his hands, preparing himself for the worst.

_Dear Mr/Mrs. _Kirkland_ ,_

_The faculty at Gage Jason High School would like to cordially invite you to the 10 Year Runion that is being held Saturday, November 13th. We hope that you will be able to make it. Awards will be given, such as "Best Dressed", "Most Changed", etc. The event will last from 6:00 to 10:00 pm. Snacks and beverages will be served. _

Principal Sam Donovan

_Principal Sam Donovan_

A high school reunion was really the last thing Arthur wanted. It wasn't that high school had been a traumatic experience for him, as it had been for some people he knew. Nor was it that he was afraid of how he would measure up to his former classmates. No, the simple fact was that he was far too busy to go to a high school reunion.

Or at least this was what he thought, until he checked his PDA and discovered that Saturday, November 13th was actually one of the few and far between free days he had. He found himself feeling bitter that he was going to be spending one of _his _days at a meaningless social event. On the off chance that he got a day to himself, he typically spent it reading or visiting a museum. Now he would be mingling with people he had to pretend to like while they did the same.

But he was still going to go. Of course he was. He had too much pride not too, and anyway, he shuddered to think of what people might think if he didn't go. It wasn't that he had been terribly popular in school, so in all likliehood most people wouldn't notice if he went or not. It was the people who _would _notice, his old friends or, perhaps worse, old enemies.

All of this high school thinking left him feeling a bizarre mixture of nostalgic and disappointed, and both feelings were what prompted him to go and find his old yearbook from senior year. He knew exactly where it was. Ten years had passed, and it hadn't once moved. He had stored it in a box under his bed, and he had thought it was the only thing in there. It wasn't until he went to retrieve the (somewhat dusty) yearbook that he realized there were other things in there as well. A photobooth picture, a class ring, and a keychain snowglobe, all of which he took one look at and shoved back under the bed. _'Those are just useless knick-knacks,' _he thought, though he briefly wondered who he was reassuring.

He sat down on his bed and opened the yearbook, once again feeling a wave of nostalgia just by opening to the inside cover-if only because it had been so long since he had thought about those days. Now that he thought about it, the minute everyone went their seperate ways for college, Arthur had seemed to completely repress high school.

Before he had even gotten to the actual yearbook, he looked at all the signatures on the inside of his yearbook. He had been more popular than he had remembered. It wasn't totally full of signatures, but it wasn't empty, either. Most of them were pretty stupid, really. He read them to himself.

**OMG! Arthur, you are the coolest nerd in the world! I guess you aren't really a nerd, just smart. Maybe British people always sound smart? Well, anyway, don't ever change! U RULE! :) -Feliciano**

Feliciano? Who, who-oh, he remembered, mentally slapping himself. The head cheerleader who was overly peppy. It was suddenly clear. Had they really been that close? Then again, people always signed each others' yearbooks, even if they were practically strangers. He kept reading.

**Arthur, **

**Hope things work out for you. You're smart, so you'll probably be successful. **

**Best of wishes,**

**Ludwig**

And that, he recalled, was the quarterback. He remembered that people joked that he and Feliciano would eventually start dating, not only because of their statuses on the field, but because of their best friendship-well, and because they often seemed closer than best friends. Or perhaps that was just the maturity of teenage boys.

**Hi Arthur. Well, it's finally the end of high school. I was your best friend's twin brother and I was in three of your classes. I even sat behind you in math, but you never noticed me. Oh well. -Matthew**

Matthew? Hm. The name seemed familiar. Vaguely, he recalled a painfully shy who looked exactly like Alfred, and-

Alfred. Remembering was like a slap in the face. For whatever reason, he hadn't immediately thought of him, but now memories flooded his mind. They had been best friends in school. He couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been together. He smiled as he thought of all the times they had shared together. One memory in particular, however, pulled him out of his reverie. He wasn't sure if it had really happened or not, and he really didn't care. He pushed it out of his mind and opened the yearbook.

He skimmed through the monochromatic pages, flipping past the underclasssman portraits and looking at the event pictures. "Halloween Dance" caught his interest, and he stopped at it. There were several pictures with students he did not recognize, but he saw one that had a picture of himself.

It had been one of those group pictures where everybody had to squeeze together just to get in the frame. Starting at the left, it went Ivan (an intimidating Russian student he had been friends with, who in this picture was dressed as a horrifyingly realistic werewolf) who had his arm around the shoulder of Wang, who was flashing a peace sign. Arthur laughed when he saw that he was dressed as a vampire. Wang had the kind of face that could easily be mistaken for belonging to a woman, if you didn't know him, and what was unfortunate was that he had a similar voice and wore his hair long. In the middle was Francis, who had dressed in a shockingly promiscous fireman costume, one that he was genuinely surprised Francis had even been allowed to wear at the dance, much less in the yearbook. After Francis were Alfred and himself, both with their arms around each other and cheesy grins on their faces. He had been dressed as a pirate, and Alfred had been dressed as Batman. _'Best friends forever,' _he thought bitterly to himself. _'And where has that promise gotten me?'_

The Halloween page was beginning to depress him, so he flipped to the next page, which was for the Winter Formal. He recalled how he hadn't actually had a date, and Alfred's had ended up going home with Francis, and how both had left early out of sheer disappointment to eat at McDonalds, drinking rum that Arthur had stolen from his parents. And yet, it had been one of the best nights of his life. He smiled softly as his former friends and classmates' black and white faces grinned at him. There was another picture of Alfred, this one with his date before she had run off. He was kissing her on the cheek, and she was laughing. For whatever reason, the picture royally pissed Arthur off, and once again he turned the page.

Then there was prom. He hated how all of the pictures for the dances were in one group, as if they were assaulting him all at once and forcing him to remember the nights they represented. This one he recalled having a date for, but he had only asked her because he had known she had a crush on him and didn't want to go alone. He felt a pang of guilt for being unable to remember her name. Once again, he wasn't pictured, and he was thankful for it, though he was even more thankful for the fact that Alfred hadn't been pictured either. _'Why am I having such issues today?' _Then he laughed as he saw the prom queen and prom king pictures. Due to what was equal parts ignorance and practical joke, Feliciano had been elected prom queen. (Arthur also attributed this to the fact that he was a cheerleader and while his voice was somewhat masculine, his actions were not.) The school had made an effort to cover this up when someone pointed out this mistake, and the runner-up was shown in the pictures, but everyone had known that in all technicality, Feliciano had actually been the prom queen. Francis had been the prom king, and it was clear to anyone who knew him that he wouldn't have cared either way.

Arthur glanced at the clock, and realized with alarm that it was already getting late. It wasn't even that he had spent so much time looking at his yearbook that he had lost track of it, but that it had been evening when he had gotten the letter, and now it was almost time for dinner. Sighing, he closed the yearbook and set it on his nightstand, and for once he was genuinely concerned that tomorrow would be Friday.


	2. Flashback: Halloween Party

October 31st, Senior Year

"Wow, this party is boss!" Alfred was always calling things boss. Clothes could be boss, people could be boss, and apparently so could parties. But Arthur just laughed.

"That's probably the understatement of the century," he said, his face lighting up. He had never been a party person, but for whatever reason he felt like he was going to enjoy this one.

"Alfred, you are going to drive me home afterward, aren't you?" Arthur was vaguely aware of a whisper-quiet voice talking to Alfred, but was distracted by everyone's costumes and the decorations to care.

Arthur loved Halloween. It was his favorite holiday, and in all honesty he wasn't even sure why. Perhaps it was his obsession with the occult (the one he had sworn to his mother he had completely abandoned) or maybe it was just that seeing people, people who were usually mundane and uninteresting, dressed up as goblins and witches and popular television characters was entirely uncanny in its own right. Either way, Arthur's favorite holiday was without a question Halloween.

"Dude, I told you, I can't drive you home."

"But you promised!"

"Whatever, I'm sure you'll figure something out." Alfred's brother, whose name escaped Arthur for the moment, stormed off. Why wasn't he wearing a costume? Whatever. Alfred turned to Arthur.

"Isn't this completely awesome?" They both flashed their student IDs to the ladies at the front door, walking in to the transformed gymnasium. Almost immediately, a figure in a (much shorter than the dress code permitted) dress ran up to them.

"Alfred and Arthur! Yay, you guys are here!" Arthur felt himself being pulled into a choking hug.

"Hey, Feli, 'sup?" asked Alfred.

"Nothing much!" Arthur's eyes widened.

"Feliciano, are you in drag?" Well. That had come out far louder than he had intended.

"Yup!" squealed Feliciano, laughing as he did. "It was Gil's idea. He said it'd be funny. He also said Ludwig would like it, and even though that makes no sense, I figured, why not! Also, the administration thinks I'm a girl half the time, so they let me in." He picked at the vinyl skirt. "I think I'm s'posed to be a flight attendant," he muttered, "but I'm not really sure." Based off the bright blue dress and orange ascot, which weren't much to go by, it would appear that this was the case. Alfred was cracking up.

"That is hilarious. 'Course, you could never get me to wear a dress, especially not in public, but that, my friend, is too funny." Arthur snickered a little, too. Nothing was funnier than a guy in women's clothing.

"Yeah, it took him, like, hours of convincing for me to wear this, because let me tell you, dresses? Not really my thing." Alfred and Arthur looked at each other. Alfred raised one eyebrow, as if to say, Are you buying this? Arthur mouthed No, and Alfred laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. They knew each other that well.

"Well, anyway," trilled Feliciano, "I really should be going. He didn't actually think I would do it, so I want to see the look on his face. Bye, guys!" and he, Arthur swore, skipped away. Again, they looked at each other.

"That guy is too damn happy," Alfred finally said. Arthur snorted.

"Oh, please. You're one of the happiest guys I know," Then he smirked. "And that's how I learned that ignorance is bliss. Since, you know, if it works one way then if you reverse i-ow!" Alfred punched Arthur on the shoulder, lightly, though it still hurt. "Um, ow? Thanks a lot, you prick," he said, still smirking. Alfred laughed again.

"Come on, baby, let's dance!" He yanked Arthur's arm, hard, and pulled him into the crowd of people dancing.

"I love this song!" Arthur heard someone exclaim, and turned to see a boy by the name of Feliks dancing spastically to the music. Alfred, however, was an excellent dancer, and in truth watching him dance made him feel a little pathetic. Arthur had no idea if he could dance or not, but decided that it was much safer to assume he couldn't. "Come on, dance with me!" exclaimed Alfred. "Don't just stand there!" He felt his hands being grabbed, and tried vainly to imitate what Alfred was doing. He didn't even know the damn song, but he found himself getting into it the way everyone else was. "See, you aren't so bad!" His mind barely registered Alfred's words of encouragement.

After the song ended, the DJ cheerfully announced that the next one would be a slow song. For whatever reason, Arthur felt himself blushing furiously, and ran off of the dance floor. He found himself at the concession stand, which had been temporarily abandoned. To his disgust he found that whoever was supposed to be running it had better things to do; namely, snogging someone with an intensity that Arthur found embarrassing (though he had to admit that if it had been himself doing that...he stopped there, finding the images in his brain confusing and wholly unnecessary, pushing them out of his mind as he was so used to doing). He sighed, loudly, because what he really wanted was a bottle of water, but it didn't mater because the faceless couple continued to kiss. Finally, Arthur cut his losses and headed to the bathroom where he would hopefully be alone.

Unfortunately for him, there was a couple in there as well. He found it cruel that he was alone (not that he liked anyone, mind you, but _still_) and every place he went was populated by high school scum who felt the need to express their "love" in public and in such vulgar ways. But suddenly, the door opened, shaking Arthur out of his thoughts. It was Feliciano, who waved at him, humming a song as he did so. It bothered Arthur, though he didn't know why.

"Why are you so happy?" he asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Feliciano beamed.

"You'll never guess who just made out with m-" and Arthur interrupted him.

"Save your breath. I really, really don't care." Feliciano's face fell.

"But you asked," though his response fell on deaf ears, as Arthur stormed out of the bathroom.

"Hey, dumbass, watch where you're going!" said a voice. Apparently, he had run into someone. Normally, he would apologize, but he was in a bad mood.

"Why don't you get the hell out of my way?" he said, not looking up.

"Well, maybe I sho-hey, Arthur?" Finally he turned around. Ohh, it was Gilbert. That explained it. He was wearing a plain T-Shirt and jeans, but had a magnet around his neck that was adorned with little yellow chicks. Very subtle. Gilbert laughed.

"Hey, awesome pirate costume! You look badass, for once!" Arthur tried to smile.

"Thank you, Gilbert," he said. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Gil now. You know, for 33?" This time Arthur rolled his eyes. 33 was a band he was forming with Elizabeta, or Liz now, and Roderich, or Rod. For whatever reason, they were all shortening their names to only three letters.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm never calling you that? Ever?"

Gilbert just laughed. "Whatever, man. Keep being awesome. Oh, almost forgot. Your boyfriend is looking for you, has his panties all in a wad. Go shut him up, okay?" Before Arthur could protest (in what horrible, horrible world were he and Alfred dating?) Gilbert ran off, so he just sighed and looked for Alfred. Eventually, he found him having a one sided argument with his brother.

"Alfred," said a patient voice, "I can't ride home with anyone else. The only one who offered was Francis and, well, he scares me. A lot." His voice was quiet and almost impossible to hear over the music.

"Look, Matty, I really wish I could help you here," Matthew frowned.

"But, but you see, Alfred, you could help me, if you'd just give me a ride."

"What happened to your car?" Matthew sighed.

"I don't have a car. I _had_ a car, but you took mine to go to a party, since you didn't want our parents to see that your car was missing from the driveway, because you were supposed to be grounded. So you took mine, and then you totaled it, and blamed it on me. Now, I don't have a car. Which is why I need a ride," he finished. Most people would sound angry saying something like that, but Matthew only sounded despondent.

"I can't help you. Arthur had to ride with Francis on his way here, and that must have sucked, and now it's your turn." It _had _sucked, but Arthur felt bad that Matthew was being pulled into this. If only his parents had enough money for him to have a car. Matthew looked at his feet.

"I really don't see why you and Arthur can't be apart for five minutes," he murmured.

"Hello," said Arthur, waving shyly. God, was this awkward. Matthew's face went red.

"Maple! I'm so sorry, Arthur! I didn't mean to offend you. I'm really, really sorry," he said, panicking.

"It's fine," Arthur said smoothly.

"No, it's not, it's horrible. Arthur here's too polite to tell you, but he's shaking with rage. _Shaking_." _'Alfred is definitely planning something,'_ thought Arthur as he felt Alfred's hands on his shoulders, shaking his body violently. "To make it up to him, to work towards rebuilding the, uh, bridge of friendship you just burnt, he wants you to ride with Francis." He turned to Arthur. "Ain't that right, Artie?" Arthur smiled meekly.

"U-um, yes. Yes." He coughed and looked at the ceiling.

"Okay! Not a problem! Francis probably won't touch me, I'll be perfectly fine! Take c-care, Arthur!" stammered Matthew, who then ran away. Matthew always freaked out whenever he offended someone.

"Sweet! Now we won't have Captain Annoying in the car with us," said Alfred, smiling broadly. "So, what exactly caused you to shriek and run away from me like an eight year old school girl?" Wow, Alfred could be awfully blunt. Arthur felt his face flush.

"I-I don't recall shrieking," he muttered.

"Okay, I made that part up, but I swear, man, the minute the deej said 'slow song' you bolted, like, _that. _What's up?"

"Well, why did you want me to stay? It wasn't like I was going to slow dance with _you_, or anything," said Arthur.

"Okay, first of all, what the school still can't figure out is that 'slow dancing' is the secret code for 'grinding'," Arthur knew his face had to be totally red, but he didn't care.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you wanted me to stay there so we could grind?" Oh, no. There was no way he had just said that.

"Hey, no, that's not it at all, I just don't get why you had to run like you were being chased by a bear, you know we could have just gone off and made fun of them or something," Alfred seemed almost defensive.

Arthur sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to attack you," he muttered, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. There was an awkward silence.

"So," said Alfred, "how hilarious did it look to see Batman screaming at a skinny little white kid?" Arthur laughed.

"Pretty hilarious," he admitted. In actuality he hadn't thought about it. It was as if he was just remembering people were in costume.

"Best friend hug?" asked Alfred.

"Best friend hug," said Arthur, and they did, though he couldn't help but think that best friend hugs were usually shorter and less awkward, though perhaps even more alarming was that he didn't mind.

"When's the wedding?" called a voice. To Arthur's chagrin, it was Francis. For one thing, he was not wearing a shirt, just suspenders and yellow pants in a somewhat lazy attempt to be a fireman. How had he even been admitted inside? "Because I charmed the panties off of the front desk ladies," said Francis smoothly, as if he were reading Arthur's mind. He laughed, which Arthur found grating as always. "Well, not literally, of course. _Yet._" He shuddered, and smiled a bit when he noticed Alfred was shuddering, too. "One of these days," chirped Francis. "Anyway, I hate to interrupt what is clearly a _special moment_ for you two, but I was just inquiring if either of you would like a ride," he said, a light giggle at the end of his voice.

"No thanks, we're good," said Arthur flatly.

"Special moment, my ass," added Alfred.

"Oh, you," said Francis, as if he were talking to a dog that seemed to think it was a person. "I'm fairly certain this is one of those 'protest too much,' situations," he said, then bounced away.

"Is it really almost time to leave?" asked Alfred. Arthur shook his head.

"No, the clock says we have ten minutes left," he said, gesturing to a clock that was on the wall across from them.

"Oh," said Alfred numbly. "That's not very long, is it?" Arthur smiled weakly.

"If you want my opinion, I'm glad."

"Why? Does this dance not meet your incredibly high standards?" Arthur huffed.

"My standards are fine, thank you. And, no, not by a long shot," he added. He resolved to keep the bitterness about watching people kissing like crazy to himself. Alfred sighed.

"I know what you mean. Maybe if people would stop making out it wouldn't suck so bad. I mean, it's _Halloween, _not Valentine's Day. Some of these people came with masks, next thing you know you walk by and see Godzilla kissing a ballerina and stuff, it's just like, "What the hell?", you know?"

Arthur couldn't believe it.

"Seriously? You mean that's been bothering you, too?" Alfred looked at him.

"Yeah, it has. Why, is that bugging you?" Arthur nodded.

"Well, it's not like I have anyone I _want _to make out with, or anything, it's just, like, principle, you know?" said Alfred. Arthur nodded again.

"Exactly! I mean, have you seen some of these people? They're some of the ugliest scrubs I've ever seen." Alfred laughed.

"Hey, you wanna go for a drive?"

"Okay," he said, and he followed Alfred to his car.

Alfred's car was a cherry red Camero, and it was one of the most beautiful things Arthur had ever seen. In fact, and he admitted this often, he was in love with Alfred's car. "It's almost creepy," Alfred had once said, and Arthur had just laughed, because it was probably true.

"Oh, baby, it's been so long," said Arthur in a deadpan to Alfred's car, rubbing his hands along the side of it.

"Quit molesting my Camaro and get in," he said, snickering.

"I don't know _why _it bugs me," said Alfred, after a few minutes.

"What, the kissing?" he asked. Alfred nodded.

"It never used to bother me so much, because, whatever, that's their business. But now I just look and I'm sick. It's not like I'm _jealous_ because, like I said, there's no one good around here to kiss, you know?" Arthur nodded again. It was one of those moments where he really, really wanted his brain to be quiet-where it was nearing impossible to push all of the thoughts out of his brain at once.

"I know what you mean," he finally said. Alfred took off his Batman mask, letting his somewhat messy blonde hair fall around his face. For whatever reason, Arthur took off his pirate hat.

"People are such dorks," he finally said. "But see, if it were _me_, I wouldn't want to snog someone in public even if there _were _someone," Alfred was laughing yet again.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"Dude," said Alfred, "it's been since freshman year since you moved here, and I should totally be used to it. I mean, it's not even as bad. But when you say words like that, it sounds so _British_!" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Gee, and why do you suppose that is?" Alfred smiled.

"You know what I mean. I dunno, sometimes, we'll be talking, and you'll say some British word, and when you say it just sounds so, so..." He looked like he was searching for a word. "I don't know. I don't like guys or anything." He paused. "'Least, I don't _think _I do. Anyway. I really can't put my finger on it, but you make it sound so _hot._"

Arthur knew he was blushing. Why was he embarrassed? His best friend had called him (or, rather, his accent) hot and _he _was embarrassed? What was with that? He tried to speak.

"I-I, we-well, o-oh, I d-didn't-oh, f-fuck me, this i-is t-torture," Okay, that plan hadn't worked out so well. Alfred had an odd look on his face.

"That's the way you feel?" Arthur couldn't look at him in the eyes.

"What do you mean?" Alfred frowned.

"Well, you kind of just told me to _fuck _you, so..."

Arthur's eyes went huge. "What? N-no! I didn't say that? Did I say that? I didn't say that! Well, if I did, I didn't mean it! I'm straight, see! I dated a girl my sophomore year! There we are, that settles it!" He realized he had a plastic grin on his face that he found would not move. Alfred laughed.

"Well, whatever. I mean, I only would've done it 'cause you asked." Arthur crossed his arms.

"Right, see, but I didn't ask. I was saying "fuck me", as in prefaced by, "the universe might as well," except, oh wait, it already has. Because otherwise I wouldn't be sitting in this beautiful car with my beautiful best friend thinking _things_ that probably also mean _things, _and, and-"

Somehow, he had gone from rambling incoherently about his sexual orientation to doing the very thing he had bitched about with Alfred only minutes earlier. He had essentially gone from complaining about people kissing in public with Alfred to kissing. In public.

With Alfred.

His body felt warm and bubbly. While at first his rational thoughts were saying, _'What the hell is this?' _on a seemingly endless loop, they eventually quieted until they had stopped altogether. He could taste the soda that Alfred had no doubt been drinking earlier. In fact, he was obsessed with the stuff. Arthur couldn't stand it, but now he found that it really wasn't so bad. He found himself thinking half-formed sentences about how if someone marketed _this _taste and put it in a can, he would be addicted. But they were replaced with nothing once more, since Arthur found it incredibly hard to think clearly. He wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, and was barely aware of Alfred's hands on his lower back.

Suddenly, there was a high pitched squeal, and Arthur instantly pulled away, feeling Alfred do the same. They both turned their heads to the direction of the noise. Oh, God, it was _Elizabeta. _(Or, _Liz_, Arthur remembered bitterly).

"Well, we're screwed," said Alfred, summing it up pretty accurately.

"Yep," said Arthur meekly. " To their surprise, she wasn't holding a camera, or didn't appear to be, and her smile was small.

"Relax, I won't tell," she said calmly.

"The guys are looking for you two, though." Arthur swallowed.

"T-the guys?" he asked dumbly.

"Um, which guys?" asked Alfred.

Liz rolled her eyes. "_The _guys. Ivan, Wang, and Francis. Someone from yearbook was going to take a picture of them and they wanted you two to be in the picture. Want me to tell them that now's a bad time?"

"No, that's quite alright!" exclaimed Arthur, shifting back to the passenger's seat to pick up his hat.

"Yeah, tell them we'll be there in a sec," said Alfred, putting his Batman mask on over his head.

"Okay, but if you take longer than five minutes, I'm telling them that you guys are busy. And if they ask why..." Liz trailed off, and headed back towards the school.

Alfred looked like he was about to speak, and Arthur spoke. "So! We never speak of this again, correct?" Alfred looked away from him.

"Yeah, man. Of course. Like, I don't even know why I, I mean, why I even-" He cut himself short. "You know what? Let's just forget it. Come on, let's go take that picture." Arthur nodded.

"Yes, it would be a shame to incur the wrath of Liz," he said meekly. There was an awkard silence.

"Um, Alfred?" asked Arthur. Alfred looked him.

"Yeah?" he asked. He shuffled his feet, then spoke. 

"Best friend hug?" Alfred grinned.

"Hey, of course, since you're only my best friend and all," and they hugged in the parking lot for about a minute before running to the gym to take a picture with their friends, who knew nothing and never would.

Or so he thought.


	3. Reunion

Arthur was dismayed to find out that even after eight years, he still remembered how to drive to the school perfectly. He had to admit to being nervous. Even though he had nothing to improve and nobody to impress, he was still a bit excited about seeing how everyone's lives had turned out, as well as a bit anxious about having to explain to everyone how _his _life had turned out.

After about ten minutes, he pulled into the parking lot for Gage Jason High School, feeling mildly fortunate that he had gotten a good space. He opened the front door, having a brief flashback to when he was ten years younger, telling his friends how he was "totally going to make it big, somehow," and he shuddered when he thought of what 18-year old Arthur would think of 28-year old Arthur. Probably nothing pleasant. Then he thought of where he might be in ten _more _years. He came very close to having a panic attack.

When he walked inside, turning right to enter the gymnasium where the reunion was being held, almost immediatly someone called his name.

"Arthur!" He turned around. The person who had said his name was wearing red scrubs that had a patch of a panda on the upper right hand pocket, and had long brown hair pulled back with a scrunchie.

"Wang?"

"Hi! How are you doing, aru?" So that habit hadn't gone away. He wasn't sure if it was a speech impediment or just a tic, but he recalled that Wang had almost always ended his sentences with 'aru'.

"I'm doing just fine, thank you. And you?" Wang smiled sunnily.

"I'm a veternarian," he said, gesturing to his scrubs.

"I didn't have time to change out of my clothes before I came here. Things are absolutely perfect, aru!" Arthur grimaced. He couldn't help but be jealous of the fact that his friend had reached his dreams.

"I'm stuck in a dead-end job that I despise," he said casually. Wang's face fell.

"Oh," he said, shuffling his feet. "Ah, that's not very pleasant," he murmured. "Take care, Arthur, aru," he said.

Arthur frowned. He hadn't meant to be rude. It wasn't complaining so much as it was stating a fact. Still, maybe he had been too negative. He resolved to be as sunny as he could to the next person he saw, which happened to be Honda. He hadn't known Honda that well, but they had been in some classes together, and knew each others' names.

"Hello, Arthur," said Honda.

"Hi, Honda!" exclaimed Arthur, making his smile wide. Honda ran off in the opposite direction. Well, that didn't exactly work either. Damn.

He decided to try and find some of his former friends, rather than stand by the door, no doubt looking depressed as hell. Before he could, however, he saw what had to be Feliciano waving at him and running towards him.

"Arthur! Arthur! Oh, gosh, it's been forever since I've seen you!" Arthur smiled weakly.

"Hello, Feliciano," he said, not really knowing what to say beyond that. "How are...things?" he offered, hoping that would suffice. Luckily, Feliciano was a chatterbox.

"Things are great! I'm getting married this spring, I'm sous chef at Fetta Di Sole, everything is just perfect!" Dear God, did everything this man say end with an exclamation point?

"Fetta Di Sole, isn't that local?" Arthur knew for a fact it was. He often drove past it on his way to work. The building was relatively small and dotted the i in "Di" with a grinning sunshine. He had never eaten there.

"Yep! It's Italian," he said. Well, that was no shock.

"What does the name mean?" he asked. If he remembered correctly, "sole" was "sun," but he wasn't sure, and he had been meaning to look it up but had always forgotten.

"It means, 'slice of sunshine,'" he explained.

"Oh, okay. So, where are you getting married?" Again, Feliciano beamed. Did he ever stop smiling?

"We're getting married in Vermont, and our honeymoon is in Berlin."

"That's nice," said Arthur politely.

Almost out of nowhere, Feliciano's smile seemed a bit sad. "We were supposed to get married in Venice, but it's not allowed." Arthur was confused.

"Who wouldn't allow it?" Feliciano raised an eyebrow.

"Um, the government? Same-sex marriage is illegal there. I think it's 'cause of the influence from the Vatican. I'm not sure." He frowned for an instant, but then his face lit up. "Still, married is married. I can't wait!" He giggled. A grown man was giggling. Was that normal? Then again, this was a former cheerleader he was talking to. In fact, he had been the head cheerleader. "Don't worry, Arthur, I'll make sure you're on the guest list." Then his expression turned to one of panic. "Oh, crap! I was supposed to email Ludwig the list of wedding cakes! I'm horrible! I'm sorry, Arthur, but I need to go. It was absolutley lovely seeing you, maybe we can talk later!" Arthur watched as he pulled out his Blackberry and ran away. It really was remarkable how little had changed.

Arthur walked around in the crouds, watching as old friends reminicsed and old enemies either cast frosty glances to each other across the room, or did the exact opposite and chatted it up, passive aggressively undermining each other. He recognized some people (a lot of people, actually) and in an odd way, it was interesting to see how things had turned out.

It wasn't long before he ran into more of his former friends. Apparently, he had been somewhat popular. Who knew? Either way, he decided to stop and say hello to Liz, Gil, and Rod, who were all clustered in a group, as they had done in high school.

"Hello," he said, and they all turned around at once.

"Arthur! Hey, man, what's up?" asked Gil, holding his hand up for a high-five. Rod gave him a withering glance.

"Are we seventeen again?" he asked, a disdainful expression on his face. Still, Arthur humored Gil and high-fived him.

"Arthur, how on earth have you been?" asked Liz, a smile on her face. Her hair was now at her waist, when in high school it had been a short bob, but otherwise it seemed like things were static with her as well.

Arthur forced a grin on his face. "Oh, things are quite good,"

"I can't believe how British you still sound," she said. No matter what she said, Liz never sounded like she was insulting you...well, unless you were Gil, anyway. Arthur wondered if they still went by their 33 nicknames, and assumed they did not.

"It's been, what, fourteen years? I would have thought that good old America would have beaten that accent out of you," she said, a light laugh at the end of her voice. Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

"But I visit my family in the summer," he said. "If, God forbid, I ever sound American, I assure you, they will make sure that damage is perfectly reversed." He wondered what would happen when he no longer had the money to visit London every summer. His parents almost always paid, and they always flew to visit extended family together, but he knew at some point the money had to end.

Gil grinned. "So, how's your boyfriend?" Rod rolled his eyes.

"Would you give that a rest, Gilbert? They were only friends, you were always the only one who ever saw things that weren't there." Arthur had no idea how to respond to that. Liz (Elizabeta, he realized she probably called herself now) was giving him a pointed look, one that he wasn't entirely sure he was recieving.

"Ah, Gilbert, Alfred and I were just friends," he said, his voice coming out slightly squeakier than it normally did.

"Who said I meant Alfred? Fruedian slip!" he exclaimed, doing a fist pump. Was it odd that nobody from high school seemed to change at all?

"I don't think that means what you think it means," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"So, Arthur, what do you do now?" asked Elizabeta. He was thankful she had changed the subject.

"I work for Rapture," he said evenly.

"Woah! That is so cool! I didn't even know that was real! What's it like working in an underwater hellhole?" What on Earth was Gilbert talking about?

"What?" asked Arthur. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Elizabeta sighed.

"He probably thinks you mean Rapture from _Bioshock_," she said, rolling her eyes. Gilbert paused.

"So, that's not what he means. Oh," he said, and looked disappointed. "Lame," he added as an afterthought. Roderich adjusted his glasses.

"I believe Rapture is a company that produces wireless keyboards," he said. He was the exact opposite of Elizabeta, in a way. Everything he said sounded like an insult, whether he meant it or not.

"We also make wireless mouses," he added weakly. "I don't do that, though. I mostly work with spreadsheets." He had to sound like the most pathetic person at this reunion.

"Well, at least you're better off than Gilbert," said Elizabeta smoothly.

"What? You have to be kidding. I have the most awesome job _ever_, and you're just jealous because I have to, like, fight off hot gamer chicks with a freaking _stick_," He smiled smugly, while Elizabeta fumed.

"He's the cashier at G-Squared," she said, jutting her thumb at Gilbert.

"G-Squared?" asked Arthur.

"Great Gaming," clarified Roderich. Oh. He had also driven past there on his way to work, but he was far too busy to play video games, so he had never visited.

"What's with the condecension, you snob?" Roderich glared at Gilbert.

"I am not a snob." Gilbert snorted.

"Oh, please. You are the textbook definition of snob. You think you're so great just because people pay you to play the piano. You dork," To ease the awkwardness, Arthur decided to change the subject.

"What do you do, Elizabeta?" asked Arthur.

"Ack. Do not get her started," said Gilbert, massaging his temples.

"I write romance novels," she said, smiling broadly. "Under the psuedonym Nemi Aktus," she said. Arthur blushed. One of his many little secrets was that he was a horrible romance novel fanatic, and he had in fact read many of the books written by "Nemi Aktus". They were very well written, but of course he couldn't tell her that.

"That's lovely," he said. "That name sounds familiar. Maybe I saw one of your books on television," he said.

"Yep," she said cheerfully. "_Waltzes With Unicorns _was on Oprah," she said. Gilbert snickered.

"What kind of dork would read something called _Waltzes With Unicorns_?"

"Right, well it's been lovely talking to you all, but I have to go now. Take care, all!" He walked briskly in the opposite direction.

"Nothing seems to have changed," he muttered to himself. "I feel like everything is exactly the same as it was ten years ago. Is anything different? Do our lives just stay static? Are we all doomed to-" At once, Arthur fell to the ground, having been too busy talking to himself to watch where he was going. "God, I'm sorry," he mumbled to the bright blue high tops he was facing.

"What?" said a voice. Oh, no. _'Of course,' _ he thought, _'this is just like something from a Nemi Aktus novel.' _He had been running into people all night, and of course he had to do it literally at some point. And of course it had to be _him. _His former "best friend forever," The promise had been just as futile as when teenage girls scribbled it on each others' notebooks, only they hadn't abbreviated.

"Uh, Arthur?" Arthur looked up.

"Yes?"

"Can I help you up? You've been sitting on the floor for about a minute now." He laughed. Alfred laughed a lot, he remembered. "And, I thought, 'Well, maybe he likes it there!' Still, it would be impolite to just leave you here." More laughter. "Impolite. I just saw you and you're already rubbing off on me again." He extended his hand to Arthur. He grabbed it, pushing thoughts of how nice his hand felt as far out of his mind as they would go. He was quite accustomed to doing that now; it had become common practice.

"Thank you," he said quickly.

"Hey, no problem." There was that smile. The smile that had gotten him into so much trouble, the one that had cheered him up so many times, the one that, for all intents and purposes, Arthur could never refuse. The one he could never turn down and hated to see leave Alfred's face.

"So, how's it going, my best friend forever?"


	4. Flashback: Winter Formal

**Quick, Irrelevant Author's Note: **Jamie is made up and does not represent any country. Originally, her name was Jamie and she represented Wy, but I felt sorry for poor Wy after a while, so I changed it. I just thought I should mention that. Enjoy the story, and thank you so much for adding this to your story alerts, favorite stories list, as well as reviewing! (Also, I have nothing against freshman, but the seniors in this story do. xD Thanks again.)_

December 16th, Senior Year

Well, this was going to be awkward.

It was bad enough that he had somewhat of a crush on his best friend (a fact that Arthur had taken _forever _to admit to himself, and in all honesty he still denied it a little at times) and it was also downright tragic that he had a date, and Arthur himself did not. But what made it a thousand times worse was that they would be riding in a limo together.

He tried to cheer himself up. After all, it wasn't like Arthur would be a third wheel to Alfred and whats-her-name, or anything. Actually, there would be a lot of people in that limo. Sure, he would have to sit and watch Alfred with his date, but Ivan and Wang were also going (it was well-known, though not outright said by anyone, that they were an item) Francis would be there, and Alfred's brother (his name escaped him for the moment) would also be there with his date.

Okay, thinking about that didn't make things better. The only other person going without a date would be Francis. Lovely. Besides, if Alfred's somewhat pathetic little brother could get a date and Arthur couldn't, what exactly did that say? Nothing pleasant, anyway.

In point of fact, Arthur felt that going to the Winter Formal was a complete waste of time, and he probably would have ditched it, even though that would basically be throwing away the $25 he had spent on a ticket. But it was, in a cruel twist of irony, Alfred who had wanted him to go. "Come on, Arthur, you _have _to be there," he had said. Arthur had replied, "Why? You have a date, I don't, so why do you need me?" And Alfred had smiled that damn smile of his and said, "Because when you go to things they're a million times more awesome. Besides, you'll like _." That was when Alfred had said the name of his date, which Arthur was still blanking out on. Maybe he had repressed it. Either way, he would know it when he saw her.

He had just finished combing his hair for what had to be the thousandth time (no matter how many times he brushed it, it was still as messy as ever) when the doorbell rang. He wasn't sure who he had expected to ring it, since his friends were shamelessly lazy, and he had figured they would honk the horn and that would be that. This was why he was so shocked when he opened the door and Alfred was there.

As much as he tried to stop himself from thinking it, the first thing that came to mind was _'God, he looks so damn good in a tuxedo.' _Arthur had a special kind of love for formalwear. In all honesty he had no idea why, but ever since he was little he had loved looking at clothes you usually wore to a wedding or a funeral. Or, in this case, a dance.

But he couldn't really enjoy looking at his beautiful best friend in what was likely an even more beautiful tuxedo, because next to him was a short girl that he instantly remembered was named Jamie. She was a freshman girl with bushy eyebrows and blonde hair. Arthur immediately hated her.

"Hello, Alfred. Jamie." His voice was icy, and he knew that he probably sounded like a catty teenage girl, but he didn't really care. In all honesty, he was a catty teenage boy, so what difference did it make?

"Hey, man! You look boss." Jamie waved shyly, and Arthur gave her the, "you're lower than dirt to me," look he had perfected on his brother Peter. This one was a little meaner, though. She smiled a "please don't hurt me" smile and fled to the limo. Arthur smirked. _Take that._

"Bye, Mom, I'm leaving to go have sex and do drugs," he said in a deadpan voice towards his mothers' room. "Alright, have fun!" she shouted back. It was how they joked with each other. Arthur assumed that his mother knew damn well that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell he would get any, of drugs or of sex, so she just went along with it. "Take care," he murmured, and slammed the door shut behind him.

"This is gonna be awesome!" exclaimed Alfred, doing a double fist pump.

"If you say so," said Arthur, keeping his voice at a disinterested monotone. It was his new thing, like a signature Lip Smackers flavor, or a signature catchphrase. He called it his signature attitude. Disinterested, cynical, sarcastic: those were his only settings as of late. When Alfred opened the limo door for him, he scoffed, and sat down next to Alfred's brother. He didn't realize until it was too late that he was going to be sandwiched between the Jones twins. _Fun!_

Ivan glanced at Arthur. "Hello," he said to him, waving slightly.

"Oh. Hello, Ivan," he said, his voice neutral. He had been so focused on hating the snot out of Alfred's stupid little frosh of a date, he had forgotten to acknowledge everyone else. He also noticed for the first time that Matthew (_that _was his name, Matthew!) had managed to get the courage to ask out Ivan's sister, Katyusha, to the Winter Formal. Perhaps even more shocking was that she had said yes.

"So, who's ready for the formal?" asked Alfred, using the tone of voice one might use to get a child pepped up to go to the dentist.

"I am," said Francis, smirking. At least he wasn't laughing. If there was anything Arthur hated more than the situation he was currently in, it was probably Francis's laugh.

"I cannot wait!" exclaimed Katyusha.

Wang shrugged. "I don't see how it's different from any other dance, really. That being said, yes, I'm certainly ready." Ivan nodded in agreement. Jamie nodded faintly, and Matthew said something everyone ignored, and it wasn't until much later that Arthur realized that he hadn't responded.

"Oh. Yes, I'm _certainly _ready. No, really. I've just been counting down the days to Winter Formal," he said, rolling his eyes. Alfred laughed nervously.

"Right! And it's going to be _so _much fun, isn't it?"

Jamie cleared her throat. "I have a question," she said. Her voice was less meek than it had been before.

"Shoot," said Alfred.

"Give me a gun and I very well might," muttered Arthur under his breath. He noticed Matthew looking at him, alarmed, but it didn't look like anyone else had noticed, so he was in the clear.

"Are freshmen allowed at the prom?"

"No," said Arthur immediately. Francis laughed. _Damn it._

"Unless, of course, you have a date who's a senior," and he gave her his cheesiest wink. Jamie giggled. _'See, Alfred, she's already lusting after Francis. She doesn't care about you like I do,' _thought Arthur, though he instantly felt bad and, to be honest, kind of like a prick. _'Arthur, stop that. No one likes the nice-guy douche who pretends to be 'just friends' with someone only to secretly want in their pants,' _Seconds later, it occured to him what he had thought, and it took about ten minutes of inner monolouging to convince himself that no, he didn't want in Alfred's pants.

Just as he had finished his internal debate with himself, he noticed that the limo had stopped and that they were already at school. Jamie and Francis were talking to each other, and Alfred was oddly silent. No wonder, since his date seemed like she was about a glass of spiked punch away from going home with Francis. Who _would_ feel like talking?

"This is so exciting!" Arthur winced as Katyusha's high pitched voice filled the air. Arthur was generally fond of Katyusha since she was a kind-hearted girl, but her optimism was getting on his nerves tonight. While she hugged Matthew, who was probably happy to be getting any attention at all, Arthur watched as Alfred took his ungrateful, snot-nosed date by the arm and lead her inside.

Not that he was bitter, because he wasn't. Or, at the very least, that was the image he wanted to convey. He could admit to _himself _that he was a nervous heap of envy, but there wasn't a chance that he would admit it to anyone else.

When he got inside, after brandishing his student ID like it was a weapon, he knew immediately what he would do. He would stand off to the side, no doubt looking like the wallflower he was, and try very hard not to watch Alfred and Jamie. Yes, this was an excellent plan, he thought. Much better than the last dance, where his plan had apparently been to build up a load of sexual tension.

Of course, Arthur figured that it wasn't really sexual tension if you were the only one he felt it. And he knew that Alfred didn't feel it, as evidenced by Short, Small, and Hairy that he had chosen as his date. Arthur sighed. Again with the cattyness. _'I'm worse than Natalia,' _he thought. Natalia was Ivan's _other _sister, a junior who, according to rumor, had a serious big brother complex. Arthur didn't knew if this was true, but he had his suspicions. Most of them were founded, though. In fact, Natalia had been why video game night was never hosted at Ivan's house.

Arthur slid down against the wall until he was sitting. He was feeling a perfect blend of typical teenage angst bullshit and pure, unbridled apathy. Or at least that was how he saw it. He had the urge to write depressing poetry, but quelled it when he thought of how laughably bad he was at writing poems.

Shaking him out of the torture that was his overly analytical mind was a voice saying his name.

"Arthur? Hey, man, are you alright? You don't look so good. Like, at all." What? What was going on? "If you're going to puke, don't do it on me. I only came over here because you looked so pathetic." Oh. It was Gilbert. Lovely. He sat down next to him. "That, and because watching Liz and Rod play tonsil foosball with each other isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my night." Huh. It actually sounded like Gilbert knew how Arthur felt.

"Really? Roderich, showing any kind of physical affection in public? That really doesn't sound like him, at all." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred kiss Jamie on the cheek for a yearbook photographer. Why were they always taking pictures of Alfred?

Gilbert nodded. "I know, right? It's like, the minute I tell him I might _maybe _have something _kind of _like a crush on his bitch of an ex-girlfriend, he decides to hook up with her. _Again._" He shook his head. "And she said yes. Of course she said yes." Arthur didn't say anything. It was common knowledge that the members of 33 had something of a love triangle, but the last he had heard, Elizabeta and Gilbert had been dating.

"I thought you and Elizabeta were an item?" Gilbert shook his head.

"Yeah. Because a girl like Liz is gonna go with-" He stopped himself short. "You know what my problem is? I'm too awesome." He sounded on the verge of tears as he spoke, his words sounding less reassuring than they normally did. "I'm so damn awesome it makes me _sick_."

"I think he's making out with her so much because he hates me," he said bluntly. Although Arthur knew how paranoid and self-centered that sounded, he also knew that it could very well be true. Roderich and Gilbert were the kind of best friends that seemed more like enemies, with Elizabeta serving as the stability that kept them together. They really were an odd little group. "See? He's not doing it now that I left," and he pointed towards Elizabeta and Roderich, who were chatting by the concession stand. "You know," said Gilbert thoughtfully. "If I wanted to, I could probably have that little Italian kid. Whatshisname. He's kind of cute, and I'm sure he's in love with me." Arthur swallowed the urge to shout,"are you fucking nuts?". Whether Gilbert was kidding or not, he wasn't sure, but there were a lot of problems to be had with his plan. Perhaps the most glaring was that Gilbert's brother and "that little Italian kid" were another unspoken item. Sure, they claimed they were best friends and nothing more, but this was almost definitely just a formality. Gilbert looked at him. "Dude, chill, I'm just kidding. Ludwig would have my head on a freaking stick," but he smirked after he said it. "That would be funny though,"

"But seriously," he said, after a minute or so, "I'm sitting here against the wall because I didn't want to watch my so-called best friend get to first base again and again with the girl I like. What's your story?" Arthur stared at his shoes.

"I don't have a story," he said, after much thought of how to respond.

Gilbert laughed. "Right, so then where's your other half?" Arthur glared at him.

"I'm completely fine without Alfred, thank you very much. He's got a date," he said, giving a pointed look to Jamie. Alfred was probably around somewhere.

Gilbert arched an eyebrow. "You mean that fresh meat freshman who's practically begging for a tweezer?" Arthur couldn't help it; he began laughing in a most undignified manner. He was laughing so hard that he snorted, which was something he hated about his laugh, but he didn't care. Finally, he stopped.

"Yes, that's the one," he said, still giggling a bit as he said it.

Gilbert laughed, too. "I thought that was gonna piss you off," he said.

"Why? Because she's Alfred's date? Just because he likes her doesn't mean I have to, too," he said, feeling defensive. Gilbert shrugged.

"No, I meant because her eyebrows are about a fourth the size of yours, and I thought you people with your eyebrow problems liked to stick together," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"My eyebrows are _perfectly normal_, thank you very much. And anyway, I actually have no problem with Jamie. She seems like a nice girl."

Gilbert smirked. "Yeah, 'nice girl', my ass. That's probably British for, "dumb bitch," isn't it?" It wasn't true, of course. He had meant to sound above it all, mature, and (most importantly) totally fine with Alfred's date, but apparently his true feelings were obvious. "Regardless, I have to say, you and Alfred are probably the closest of best friends I've ever seen, especially for two guys." He paused, then shook his head. "Well, that's not true. West and his cheerleader boyfriend are pretty close. Like, really close." He made a face that made Arthur wonder just how close he meant, until it occured to him he probably did not want to know. "Ugh, but seriously, have you two ever even fought? I don't think you guys are ever pissed at each other."

This was a question Arthur had to seriously consider, because in all honesty he didn't know. If they had fought, it was likely over something stupid, and Arthur really couldn't think of a time he had been more angry at Alfred than he was at this moment. "I suppose you're right," he finally said.

"See, now I'm always getting pissed off at Liz. Well, and Rod too, but I don't have the hots for him. Or Liz," he added quickly, "but you know what I mean. I would probably be less angry at the both of them if they would just decide whether or not they wanted to be together. This is what their relationship is like." He cleared his throat and began to speak in a high falsetto.

"Oh, Roderich, your manly piano playing and manly spectacles make me want to ravish you! I must have you!" Then he made his voice deep, deeper than when he spoke normally. "Oh, my darling _blume_, though I too want oh so desperately to get into your panties, I'm afraid it cannot be." "But why? Why can't we be together?" "Because, Elizabeta, our relationship needs angsty drama to function properly! Will we be together or not? Who knows? Certainly not us!" "Oh, I suppose that's true. And yet, I love you!" "Well, I hate you!" "Oh, then I hate you too, you _szív törés szamár!_" Gilbert broke character. "I don't know what that means, but she's called him that about a million times." He went back into what was clearly supposed to be an imitation of Roderich. "But Elizabeta, I love you! Let me express it by saying dirty things to you in German because I know you don't speak the language and think it sounds sexy!" "You really love me? Yay!" "Just fucking with you! Again! Break up time! _Auf wiedersehen_, bitch!" He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Ad nauseum," he said, rolling his eyes.

Arthur honestly had no idea what to say to that. "Nice theatrics," he finally went with. Secretly, he had found Gilbert's..._interpertation_ of Liz and Rod's relationship to be hilarious, but he knew it would look bad if he laughed at it. Even though no one was around, he didn't want to be brought into this, especially if Rod or Liz found out. "Well, Arthur laughed!" he could quite clearly imagine Gilbert saying.

"Thanks," he said. "So, do you have any top-quality imitations of why you're so pissed off at Alfred?" Arthur wanted to say no. He wanted Gilbert to regret asking such a question, he really did. But for whatever reason, he exploded, and expressed his anger through sarcasm and bad accents.

"Oh! Hello! I'm Alfred!" His attempt at an American accent was laughably bad, but he didn't care. He held up his left hand and touched his fingers to his thumb so it looked like his hand was talking. "I love nothing more than being clueless about everything! You might think it's impossible for someone to be as dumb as I am, and perhaps you're correct, but to hell if I'll ever let you know!" He held up his right hand, and made his voice high-pitched. "Hello there," he made his hand say, "My name is Jamie, and I like to think I'm good enough for people like Alfred, even when this is clearly not the case! I have bushy eyebrows, and when I talk I sound like a man! I also flirt with Francis and his Frenchy laugh turns me on!" "Really? Well I, Alfred F. Jones, am intruiged! It sounds like you are the woman for me! Guess this means I can ignore things that happened at the Halloween Dance and pretend there's exactly zero sexual tension between me and my closest-slash-dearest friend, Arthur. God, is he good to me! Too bad I'll never know! Want to hold my hand, Jamie?" "Okay, and let's rub it in Arthur's face!" "Great plan! This must be why I'm dating you!" It was around this point that he realized what, exactly, he was saying. "Oh, God, kill me now," he said, while Gilbert looked at him in shock.

"Dude..." he began. "That..." Arthur felt like he was going to die of embarrassment. "...was probably the worst American accent I've ever heard. That is pathetic." Arthur arched an eyebrow.

"So, nothing I said bothered you at all?"

"What, the sexual tension stuff? I already knew that. I figured that was the whole reason you didn't like Jamie. Since it couldn't be her monstorous eyebrows, like it is in my case. I don't know, or want to know, what the hell happened Halloween. But I know Liz came in smiling like crazy, so I know it can't be anything good." Arthur paled.

"Did she tell you?"

Gilbert glanced at him. "What? Nah, Liz can keep a secret. And I'm assuming that whatever it is you did is a secret, right?" Arthur nodded. "But what I do know is that Liz has a _thing _for when guys hit on other guys. I don't know why, I really don't care, but I know that it's there because Liz is freaking obvious. I also know that she was supposed to be looking for you and Alfred. I assumed she had gotten sidetracked and found my brother or something, but you and Alfred isn't exactly surprising either." Arthur couldn't believe how nonchalant Gilbert was being about this. "What, did you think no one knew? We all knew. I think everyone can see it except for you two," he finished.

He got up and wiped his hands on his pants. "Well, Artie, it was great talking to you, but I have to jet. I'm going to go awkwardly intrude on Lizzy and Roddy," and he smirked. "Actually, I'll probably get a bag of chips or something first. Then, it's off to being the third wheel!" He laughed triaumphantly and ran off. Only Gilbert would see something like that as a success. Still, and Arthur hated to admit it, he felt better after talking to him. But were his feelings really that obvious? If everyone knew, did that mean Alfred did, too? He was beginning to feel sick.

"Arthur?" _'Would everyone please leave me alone?' _he thought to himself.

"Go away," he muttered. He hadn't heard who had said his name, and he really didn't care. In almost an instant, he felt an arm around his shoulder. He looked up, only to see Alfred next to him.

"What? W-what are you doing? Here? Next to me? Touching me?" Was there any way to make that sentence less awkward? Arthur conceded that there was not. "I'm fairly certain there's a confused, wide-eyed freshman out on the dance floor who's going to die without you there," he mumbled. As much as he wanted Alfred to stay exactly where he was for the rest of the night, he knew it was pointless if it was all out of pity. Arthur hated accepting the pity of others-it made him feel weak.

"Please, don't mention Jamie. Though I appreciate that you didn't say her name. Look, I need to leave, right now. Are you coming with me or not?" Arthur looked at him in shock. Why did Alfred look so desperate? _'What did that girl do? And how hard to I have to kick her ass?' _After a bit of thought, he realized it would look incredibly bad if he was caught beating the snot out of a 9th grade girl, but he didn't particuarly care. In fact, he realized with horror, he was actually looking forward to it.

"Okay Alfred, of course I'll go with you, but-" Alfred had already pulled Arthur up from the floor by the wrist, and was dragging him out the door. "Where are we going? How can we get there without a car?"

"I know a place, alright? Just chill. We can walk there, it's not that far. We'll be back here before the limo comes, okay?" Arthur just nodded meekly. In all honesty, he was worried beyond belief.

They left the door and Arthur followed Alfred blindly. After they had left the parking lot, they were walking along side the road. "I'm not sure this is safe," bleated Arthur, and Alfred just looked at him.

"I really need someone to talk to right now, okay? It won't be long, I promise. I'll hold your hand if you get scared," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Arthur was ashamed of the fact that if he had been serious, he would have taken Alfred up on his offer without hesitation.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," he said, his voice equally sardonic. If Alfred was trying to play the game of sarcastic comments, it was one he was most certainly going to lose. Of course, by this point Arthur had already seen the bright neon sign alerting him of his destination. It wasn't surprising at all. Alfred had always taken solace in fast food, and the glow of the golden arches (especially with it being so close) probably seemed like heaven to him. Arthur hated fast food, but he knew that he would rather be with Alfred in a place he despised than alone in the school, so he kept his mouth shut.

When they walked through the doors, the place was nearly deserted. Arthur supposed that no one wanted a burger at eleven o'clock at night. No one besides Alfred, anyway. "Two BigMacs, three sides of fries, a large Coke, and a large Oreo McFlurry," said Alfred to the alarmed-looking cashier. "Uh, are you sure?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm sure," he said. He turned to Arthur. "Do you want anything?" Arthur shook his head. "Okay, so, yeah, I'm sure." He pulled out his wallet, glancing at the number on the screen and tossing bills onto the counter in a haphazard manner. The woman looked too scared to inform him about tax, and soon Alfred had his sub-par food.

"Let's get a booth," he said, and Arthur continued to follow him wordlessly. "Here, you get in first," he said, picking a booth near the back of the resteraunt. The plastic was incredibly shiny, and Arthur suspected it was grease that made it do so. Still, he sat down in the booth, and was midly surprised when Alfred sat down next to him.

"Ok, so you know how That Girl was my date, right?" Of course he knew.

"Yes," he said, finding nodding too repetitive and a sarcastic "No" inappropriate to the situation.

"Well, I thought we were just going as friends. I mean, I barely know this girl, and she barely knows me, so when she asked I just said yes because, what the hell, right?" Wait, what? _'Just as friends'? 'She barely knows me'?_ Or, most shocking of all, _'she asked me'? _Clearly, there was a lot Arthur had misunderstood. But he still shook his head and uttered an affirmative, trying not to look as shocked as he felt.

"Okay, so since we're just friends and all, I don't really care about her romantic life. Like, it doesn't concern me." Now he was eating and talking at the same time, which was disgusting, and it was all Arthur could do to keep from openly wincing. "And, I saw what she did there, in the limo with Francis. Like, what, I'm some kind of idiot who can't tell flirting when he sees it? Um, no. I don't think so. I mean, that took some freakin' nads on both Francis's and Jamie's part." So Alfred had noticed. Well, Arthur had thought he could be a little dense at times, but it did make sense that he had noticed the flirting that had taken place in the limo.

"So anyway, I leave her alone for five minutes because Heracles was telling me some story about Corporal Cat or whatever, and let me tell you, I knew _that _was going to take forever and a day, so I told her to go talk to her friends and stuff because, hey, _I _didn't want to hear the Corporal Cat story. There was no way she wanted to."

"So about ten minutes later that's over with, probably because the story practically put us both to sleep, and I go looking for her. Now, don't misunderstand. I was hoping I could find you and we could hang out. I was incredibly happy that she had found someone else to talk to, really. But you weren't on the dance floor anywhere and I didn't want her to think I was totally ditching her, so I thought, 'Well, I guess I should probably try and find her.' And, to make a long story short, I found her. And do you know where I found her? Making out with Francis at the concession stand!"

He took a long drink from his soda. "Again, I had no romantic attatchment to Jamie, okay. I would say she's like a little sister to me, but the fact is that I don't know her well enough. She asked me, probably because she thought it would get her closer to Francis and she was too chickenshit to ask him, and there you go, that's about it. When I found them, she didn't apologize. She actually told me that she didn't even like Francis that much, she just wanted a senior boyfriend and a date to prom. Then, oh God, you'll never believe this. Then, she tells met that I'm obviously gay and that there's no way I'll stay in the closet long enough to take her to prom. So, yeah, that's about it."

Arthur was speechless. He coughed a little, and tried desperately to think of something to say. "Um, well, that is just...horrible, really. I mean, awful. I'm so sorry," he finished. He racked his brain for something that might cheer Alfred up, panicking. He hated to see Alfred this depressed, and felt even more horrible because the news sort of cheered him up. Then he remembered something, and from a pocket he kept on the inside of his tuxedo's jacket, he pulled out a bottle of rum. "Will this make you feel better?" Alfred's face lit up.

"Arthur! I can't believe you had that with you at the dance!" Arthur smiled. Alfred took the bottle from him and poured about half of it into his Coke. "Alfred! This some of my parents' strongest stuff. You'll die!" Well, that probably wasn't true, but it _would _knock him off his ass. "Good," he said, a giant smirk on his face. Arthur shrugged, and took a giant swig of what was left in the bottle.

They had been drinking and talking for about thirty minutes when Arthur saw what time it was. "Oh, God! We have to get back. The limo's going to be there at twelve. It's already eleven thirty," he said. Neither of them were terribly drunk yet, but it was only a matter of time before the alcohol kicked in.

"Aw," said Alfred. "You're right. But it's only a five minute walk. You want to stay here for the other ten minutes?" Arthur agreed that this was the best plan, and they stayed there, continuing to freak the hell out of the cashier, who probably wanted to go home but couldn't because of them. Suddenly, Arthur noticed something.

"Oh, my God! Look!" He pointed to a photobooth. Alfred looked at it, and a smile broke out on his face.

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Let's go!" He stood up, dragging Arthur out of his seat by the arm. They both ran up to the machine, slightly buzzed from the alcohol but still able to function. Arthur felt inexplicably happy. He was entirely unsure why, but he never wanted the feeling to go away.

"How should we pose?" asked Arthur.

"Hm, I don't know," said Alfred. "How about, serious for the first one, funny for the second one...uh, what else? Depraved sluts for the third one, and random for the fourth?" Arthur wasn't sure what 'depraved sluts' was going to entail, but he didn't particuarly care.

After adjusting themselves so the camera would show both of them, Alfred pressed a button and the camera started. The first picture, they both wore stoic expressions, both trying desperately not to laugh. For the second one, Alfred stuck his toungue out and crossed his eyes, while Alfred pursed his lips and widened his eyes. For the third one, Alfred lifted his shirt while winking, and Arthur licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. They were both cracking up when it was time for the fourth one, and then the screen announced that their picture was printing out.

Alfred held up the little sheet and started laughing. "Oh, wow. We look so serious here," he said, pointing to the first frame, "and here we look like idiots," pointing to the second. Arthur laughed too. "I don't know, this one's not bad," said Alfred, snickering at the third one. "I look sexy as hell, of course."

"What? That is so rubbish!" exclaimed Arthur. "You don't look sexy at all," he said, laughing through his words. "Oh? I don't? And what do I have to do to meet your sexy standards?"

"Well, for starters, you get minus twenty points for the venue," he said.

"What? Oh, I see there's a point system now."

"Yes. And, the fact that you don't know how to wink properly is minus another ten." Alfred laughed.

"But you're okay with me lifting my shirt?"

"Yes, that part's fine, it's just the rest of this I'm concerned with," he said, gesturing vaugely at the rest of the picture.

"Well, _Arthur_, I was going to say that you looked hella hot in that picture, but to hell if I'm gonna do it now!"

"Were you really?"

"Yeah! I really was! Because you _do _look hella hot in that picture!" He paused. "Except...not really! Because you're mean. And British," he added. Then Alfred looked at the clock. "Oh, crap! It's almost midnight, we need to leave. Like, right now."

"Should I make the Cinderella reference, or do you want to?"

"Oh, _ha ha_," said Alfred. "Well, if that's the case, then you're the princess. I get to be Prince Charming."

"What? That is such a total farce!"

"Well, we can argue about it in the limo, now get your ass out the door," he said, and they both ran on the side of the highway, trying to get there before their limo left. "Wait," said Alfred. "I just realized, Francis and Jamie are gonna be there," he said. Oh. Arthur hadn't thought of that. That would be pretty awkward.

"Yes, I suppose so. Well, if I were you, I would just ignore them." He felt bad that he didn't have better advice than that, but his own experience in such matters was tragically limited.

"Whatever. Yeah, I'll just ignore them. They are dead to me," he said, once again sounding triaumphant in a situation that really didn't call for it. "Besides, you're about a thousand times cooler than Francis or Jamie, and I have you, right?" Alfred's smile tore Alfred in half.

"Yes," lamented Arthur softly, "You have me." _'In more ways than you know,' _he thought.

"Good," said Alfred, beaming, and he pulled Arthur into a hug. They stood on the side of the highway as cars passed by, and even though Arthur hated the feeling that he was about to be run over, he loved the feeling of being in Alfred's arms on the night of the Winter Formal, even if their hug was only a best-friend one.

When they got to the school, the limo was still there, but Jamie and Francis weren't inside. Alfred got in, and this time there was more room. "Uh, where are Francis and..." He couldn't bear to say her name. Arthur closed the door behind him.

"You didn't hear?" asked Wang. "They got in trouble because they were caught undressing in the boys' restroom." Arthur stole a glance at Alfred, but he was laughing. "Good," he said. "Serves them right." Matthew pushed his glasses up his nose. "Is anyone else creeped out that Francis is 18 and that girl was, what 14? That's what bothered me about it," Everyone laughed at Francis's debauchery.

Arthur felt on top of the world. _'I never want this feeling to go away,' _ And then, he noticed Alfred was hugging him again, this time for seemingly no reason. "What?" he asked, a slight laugh at the end of his question.

"You're my best friend, that means I can hug you whenever I want to," and Arthur conceded.

Ivan raised his eyebrows. "That doesn't look like a best friend hug to me," he observed, while Wang nodded in agreement.

"You guys suck," said Alfred, flipping them off but still keeping his arms around Arthur. "I can hug him however the hell I want to, and it's not any of your damn business," Laughter resonated in the limo, and Arthur was thankful that no one could see how red his face was in the darkness.

"I bet Arthur's blushing right now," said Matthew. What? Matthew never talked. He felt Alfred's hand on his cheek.

"Yep, he's blushing. Good call, Mattie!"

"Shut up, my face is only flushed because I'm laughing too hard," said Arthur. Then there was a bit of a pause, and he spoke."You know, this was way more fun than I thought it would be," Everyone was then started on how their nights had gone, and everyone told their respective stories, even Matthew. Regardless, Arthur was happy that for once, his story was by far the best one.


	5. Alfred Again

Arthur cleared his throat. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Alfred's face clouded over in confusion. "Well, no, it's just, we used to be so close and stuff, that's what we called each other, and I-"

Arthur laughed bitterly. "Oh, Alfred, surely you know that we're not 'best friends forever' anymore?" _'That's a paradox,' _he thought to himself. If they had been best friends forever, there would be no reason to even have this conversation. Hell, they hadn't even been best friends for a decade, much less forever. _'More like, 'Best Friends For Now,' _he thought. _'Best Friends Until It's No Longer Convenient. Best Friends Until Graduation.' _Hm. Was graduation when they had stopped talking? No, it had been sooner, but when?

"Uh, yeah. I, uh, I knew that. I guess I do know, I had just hoped, is all." Alfred looked downright pathetic, the way he looked so downcast and crushed. Well. Now Arthur felt like a total jerk.

"Oh, hey, Alfred, really. It's alright. I mean, it's not like this is new or anything, I knew we weren't going to keep in touch. We had actually started drifting away earlier in the year, if you recall." _'Pity that I don't.'_ When was it, when was it? Now it was bothering him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, man. Didn't mean to go all sad puppy on you. You just seemed so pissed off at me. But now that I remember it, you _always _seemed pissed off at me, even when I totally knew you weren't! I guess it's just been so long." Arthur was about to say something in response, though what he wasn't sure, when he felt Alfred's arms around him. If he had been able to form a coherent thought, maybe it would have been, _'What the hell?' _

When the spontaneous hug stopped, Alfred was smiling. Of course, it was pretty rare for him not to be, but it was obvious that it hadn't been nearly as awkward for him as it had been for Arthur.

"I would have warned you, but saying "best friend hug" didn't seem to fit, given the circumstances," explained Alfred. Right, of course. "That, and you just really looked like you needed a hug." Arthur sighed, and tried not to think about how much he had needed a hug, or at the very least how much he had needed a hug from Alfred. _'No, this isn't right, I'm fine, I've moved on. I don't feel that way anymore.'_

The fact was, Arthur had genuinely hoped that after ten years, seeing Alfred would be like seeing anyone else in terms of awkwardness. Sure, there would be initial awkwardness stemming from the fact that promises to 'keep in touch' were almost always outrageous lies, but then that would melt away and it would almost be like being in high school again. But no. To his dismay, being near Alfred made him feel very awkward in a way he couldn't quite put into words. There was tension between them, _tension,_ but he couldn't explain why. Sure, things were bound to be weird since they had been so close, but that was so long ago. Why were things so damn awkward?

"So, my ex-BFF, why don't we go ahead and find our seats? Isn't the award thing soon?" Arthur glanced at his watch. The 'award thing' wasn't due to start for an hour and fifteen minutes. Still, he decided to humor him, and they walked together to the auditorium.

"Wow," said Arthur when he opened the door. Everything was so incredibly...unchanged, boring, and identical to when he had attended school. He wasn't sure why, but he had expected so much more. The uncomfortable wooden benches looked exactly the same, the room was still ugly and poorly lit, and the temperature was downright freezing as it had always been.

"I know! It's like nothing has changed at all!" exclaimed Alfred. _'Just one more thing that's exactly the same,' _thought Arthur. He watched as Alfred chose a spot somewhere in the middle. "Don't just stand there, Artie, pop a squat next to me!"

Arthur gave him a _look. _"Seriously?" Alfred laughed. "That's disgusting," he said, cringing at the phrase. Arthur wasn't sure why he found the phrase so heinous, but he did, and he knew Alfred was saying it to irritate him.

"It means 'sit down', you pervert," said Alfred. "Are you going to do it, or am I going to have to use force?" Arthur felt his face heat up as unwanted images of what 'by force' could entail flooded his mind. _'Go away, go away, I am fine...' _he thought to himself, trying as hard as he could to think about something, anything else.

"Oh, I'm the pervert. Hah. That really is something," said Arthur, trying to regain his dignity, or at least what shreds of it were currently hanging on him in tatters. In actuality, Arthur had no memory of Alfred being much of a pervert. Other than his tendency to make every sentence sound like flirtation (which, Arthur acknowledged, could have been the way he himself perceived things), Alfred never really struck Arthur as a huge pervert or anything. Still, he had to defend himself, and the best defense was a good offense, wasn't it?

"Oh please!" exclaimed Alfred, standing up to look Arthur in the eyes. "When we were in school, you always read those books. You know, the really steamy ones that had half-naked men on the cover and cheesy names like, like, I dunno, _Sex Among the Stars _or some crap like that. And then, I'd look over your shoulder and it would have some sentence like, "Forrest held Wyndibeth in his muscular arms and ripped her bodice off with his teeth," and I'd just be like, "What the hell?" Then you'd close the book and your face would be all red. Kind of like it is right now."

Arthur was mortified. "First of all," he began, "I only read those books for the entertainment value. You don't honestly believe I would be, um, _titillated _by such, such _trash_, do you? And, also, I think I should point out, several times you asked to borrow books from me. And, I would get them back in horrible condition. God only knows what you did with my books. I can't believe you think _I'm _the pervert," he finished. Lies. All of it lies. Well, most of it, anyway. He read romance novels because he liked them, certainly, but he rarely laughed when he read them. (He was prone to fits of giggling, but he took great care to only do this in private.) Also, while it was true that Alfred had borrowed some of his books, they had never been his romance novels. _'I can't believe I have to have this conversation,' _he thought to himself.

"Yeah, right. 'Ooh, look at me, I am Arthur Kirkland! I love to read erotica, but trust me, I only do it because I think it's _funny!_ I mean, it's impossible for a _gentleman _such as myself to be turned on by anything, ever, so don't think such things! Bla, bla, bla!'" Alfred's horrible imitation of his British accent was cringe-worthy alone; his words actually stung.

"Oh, Alfred, you never cease to amaze me with just how _little _you actually know! It's downright baffling how you, of all people, are making such outrageous claims. All I ever said was that my romance novels, which by the way are _not _the same thing as erotica, were not substantial enough on their own to, as you so vividly phrased it, 'turn me on'. There. Are you happy now?" Now it seemed he and Alfred were actually fighting. At what point had it stopped being a joke? He could feel his heart slamming against his chest, and he could hear it in his ears.

"No, no, see, that's not what I said. I said _nothing turns you on,_ probably because you're so uptight that you wouldn't know the feeling if you had it!" Arthur scowled at Alfred. What the bloody hell did he know?

"How exactly would you know that? The last time I checked, you weren't exactly an expert on my sexuality! I don't really see how you know so much, Alfred, about something that is clearly none of your business!" And anyway, why did Alfred care?

"Because it's obvious, Arthur, that's how! Face it, you're such a prude that you've probably faked this whole conversation. Inside of your emotionless robot-mind, you're thinking, 'I'll have to look up what turned on means, since I don't actually know!'"

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure I know, Alfred."

"Oh, really? And why as that?"

"Fuck you! I know because this entire conversation is turning me on!"

Oh, no.

_'Please, please tell me I didn't say that. Please, let Alfred have punched me out long ago, and knocked me out. Please let me have dreamed that conversation, even if it would be incredibly odd to dream about things like that. Oh, God, I want to die,' _ Arthur was sure minutes had passed, minutes that felt like hours, but in actually it hadn't even been a second.

"You liar! There's no way you can be turned on right now. Know why? Because _I'm _turned on right now, and if that's true than we both turned each other on, and if _that's _true we might as well have sex right here on this disgusting auditorium floor that probably hasn't been washed since the last time we were in it!"

Wait, what?

"Oh, God," said Alfred, after what really was a few minutes. "Hey, man, I'm really, uh, sorry I said that stuff. Just now. I mean, I was actually lying, about most of it. Like, I don't even think you're a pervert, you know? I don't know why I got so, um, worked up." Alfred's face was slightly pink, which was fairly odd since Arthur had only seen him blush once or twice.

Arthur looked at the floor. "No, no, of course not. I mean, um, me too, actually. The lying, I mean. About the, ah, majority of what I just said. Could we possibly pretend this conversation never happened?"

"Yeah, man, you know it. That would be great." A bright, sunshiny smile lit up Alfred's face, and Arthur hated himself for how much better he felt at seeing it.

"What? No! You can't do that, I won't allow it!" Alfred and Arthur both turned around to where the voice was coming from, which in this case was two rows behind them. A man with long blonde hair pouted. _'Francis? Really?' _thought Arthur to himself.

"Why am I not surprised?" asked Arthur bitterly. "Oh, hello Francis, it's just _lovely _seeing you again. How's life, what did you end up doing, oh, and WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE WHEN ALFRED AND I ARE HAVING WHAT IS CLEARLY A PRIVATE CONVERSATION?"

Francis smirked. "Well, I do not know what you two were doing here, but _I _was just coming here because the award ceremony is soon." Arthur checked his clock. It was an hour until the ceremony would begin.

"Actually, you have about an hour. And since I've actually met you before, I know damn good and well that you have exactly zero reason to sit in an empty room, totally alone, to wait for an award ceremony you and I both know you have no interest in. So, care to explain yourself?"

Francis gave his hair a flip. "Fine. I heard shouting, and I recognized one of the voiced as yours, Arthur. I assumed you were about to get in a fight and lose horribly, so of course I ran over here. Imagine my...surprise...when I come in and find out that you two are about to do some much-needed release of obvious sexual tension! So come on and do it already!" Francis's emphasis on the word 'surprise' made Arthur shudder, and his desire to see him and Alfred do God-knows what was more than a little bizarre, though not for Francis, he supposed.

"Ugh, Francis, you are such a creeper," said Alfred, rolling his eyes. _'You tell him,' _thought Arthur. "What the hell makes you think we'd do it with you here watching?"

"What? No! We wouldn't do it at all! Honest!" Arthur heard his voice come out as a desperate bleat. He sounded pathetic, truthfully.

Francis laughed. _'That is the worst laugh ever,' _thought Arthur. _'Another thing to add to the list of things that haven't changed one bit,' _"Oh, Arthur, you can't expect me to believe that you were under the impression that prom night was a secret?" Prom night? _Oh. _

All at once, memories of "prom night" flooded to him. Like most prom nights, it had ended in a hotel room, and apparently it hadn't been a "night to remember" because Arthur had completely forgotten, or repressed, or pushed out of his mind to the point where recollection wasn't possible. Either way, he remembered now, and a tidal wave of R-rated images flooded his mind. _'Not important, not important,' _ he thought, his usual method of pushing images out of his brain failing miserably. _'You have to respond to that frog __**right now**_,_' _and thankfully thinking of Francis had solved the problem for the moment. What could Arthur possibly say to save face now?

_"Francis, you're as delusional as you are perverted. See a doctor or, better yet, a psychiatrist."_

_"Prom night? I can't seem to recall. Care to explain?"_

_"What, you think that Alfred and I-? No. No, that's entirely untrue. Sorry to burst your bubble."_

_"Are you high?"_

_"Go away, Francis."_

Everything he could think of to say sounded idiotic in his brain, but it didn't matter because apparently his mouth wasn't connected to his brain anymore. He tried over and over again to get the words out, but he couldn't speak. His mouth opened and closed over and over again.

"Great job, Francis, you broke Arthur," said Alfred. "Now he's not talking. I swear, Francis, do you have to be such a pig?"

"Well, did you two...how should I put this in delicate terms...experience "the little death" on prom night, or didn't you?" Francis was twirling a strand of golden-blonde hair around his finger and smirking.

"The little death? Is that some bondage thing?" Alfred arched his eyebrows. "Because if it is, come on man, that's just...wow."

Francis frowned. "Isn't that the correct English translation? If you'll recall, English isn't my first language. In French, it's _la petit mort_." Then he snickered. "Actually though, I did make a tiny little mistake. That's actually a euphemism for orgasm, not sexual intercourse, but in the end what does it matter anyway?" _'Someone wipe that smirk off his face,' _thought Arthur. _'It's such a pity that I don't know what to say and probably couldn't if I did know.' _

"Oh," said Arthur, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. "Well, _yeah_. _Duh._"

"Okay, so then there should be no reason why thinking of that should disable Arthur so, unless the thought of you naked has gotten him so hot and bothered that he's at a loss for words."

"I'm fine!" Arthur managed to blurt out. "Utterly, perfectly, fine!"

Alfred smiled. Damn him. Damn him and his beautiful smile. "Well, hey, that's great!" Arthur watched as he turned to Francis. "You are a lucky man, you know that?"

Francis smiled broadly. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to beat me up if I did something to hurt your little girlfriend?"

Arthur scowled. "Francis, you are a pervert, and you need to leave, right now." To his surprise, Francis did turn around to leave (but not before shouting at the both of them to 'get some' while he was away). When the door slammed shut, Arthur turned to Alfred. "So, was this conversation actually getting somewhere, or...?" Alfred cut him off.

"You seemed pretty freaked out by what Francis said and, hey, I totally understand that, but I just want you to know that he's really, really stupid, and you probably shouldn't give anything he says too much thought. Okay, that's it, I'm done." He sat down on the bench, and Arthur sat down next to him.

"I don't ever consider anything Francis says as truth, Alfred. You know that." He placed his hands neatly in his lap and scratched mindlessly at his left thumbnail with his right one. There was an awkward silence.

"Hey, Arthur?" Arthur looked up.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"After, um, prom, why did we stop being friends?"

"You're asking me that? I can't believe this." He sighed, and held his head in his hands. He spoke carefully and slowly. "You know things would have been awkward. After what I did. What _we _did. I knew you would tell me not to talk to you or contact you or whatever eventually. I didn't want that kind of pain, so I cut off all ties, and I did it first. See, it was a defense mechanism. I didn't want to be hurt, so I made myself a stranger. Besides, it was prom. It was almost the end of the year. Surely I could live without Alfred F. Jones for a little more than a month, couldn't I? And I did. I mostly hung out with 33, letting you stay with 'the guys' and in all honesty I was happier for it. Sure, I still had to look at you in the hallways, still had to see your smile lighting up everything and everyone around you." He sighed again, this time more slowly and deliberately. "But at least I didn't have to wonder. I didn't have to wonder, 'could there be more?', because there _was _more, and then-" Arthur choked on his words a bit. For some reason, he had this aching need to get everything out, even when he should have stopped long before he had started. "There _was _more, Alfred, I know, and then there was none."

Wow. That had come out so downright depressing. He had to have sounded like a teenage girl, or worse. Perhaps the worst part about it was how all of it was true. The words had spilled out without him being able to control them.

The look on Alfred's face was heartbreaking. It hurt him to look at. As much as Arthur damned Alfred's smile every time he saw it, he desperately wanted it back now, almost needed it. He was just beginning to panic when Alfred spoke.

"Um...okay, Arthur, here's the thing. When you stopped talking to me, I was completely devastated. Like, you were my best friend in the whole world, and then suddenly you drop off the face of the Earth. It made no sense. I called and you wouldn't pick up, I would say 'hi' and you would turn away. I hope you know, that totally screwed me up." Arthur winced. In all honesty, he had expected someone as popular and optimistic as Alfred to completely bounce back from, well, just about anything. He had assumed his disappearance would be a burden lifted off of Alfred.

"But I probably should clear something up, here. Maybe I was a tease in high school, I really don't know." He laughed, but this time it sounded bitter. "If I remember right, I made my feelings toward you pretty obvious. You on the other hand, you were just plain confusing. I mean seriously, the only time I even had a solid idea on whether or not you liked me was when you were taking your pants off in that hotel room, you know?" Arthur coughed a little at this, and felt his face flush a bit, but said nothing.

"Seriously though, did you like me or not? You were so weird, Arthur! I think what I'm getting here from you is, "I'm upset because you never made a move," but of course I didn't! I mean, God Arthur, I wasn't a mind reader! You had a pattern, you know. First, we'd be normal. Then, we'd do something that implied you actually did have feelings for me, and then you'd deny it and cover it up, leaving me completely confused, and then the cycle would repeat itself." Now Alfred was looking him directly in the eyes. "I don't know why you thought I didn't like you. For one, I don't care _how _close they are, guys do not hug unless there is something else going on." Arthur thought about it and, when he realized how true it was, mentally slapped his forehead.

"Well, anyway, thanks for answering my question and stuff," said Alfred, still looking him in the eyes. To be honest, the eye contact made Arthur rather uncomfortable. He wanted desperately to break it, but didn't want to seem weak. Then, Alfred smiled. "Though I do have one other question for you, though."

"Really? And what's that?"

Alfred smirked. "Did you like it?"

"Oh _God _yes," Arthur blurted out, then covered his mouth with his hands. Well, it wasn't as if his comment would make things more awkward than they already were. "Just kidding, I hated it. Hated it to pieces. I wanted to shower forever and a day afterwards," though he knew he didn't sound very convincing afterwards.

Alfred was laughing. "See? Nothing has changed, Artie. Not even you." It was with a mixture of disappointment and relief that Arthur realized it was true. He had been so hung up on how little everything and everyone else had changed, he hadn't even noticed how little he himself had changed. "You still can't decide if you want me or not," he said, grinning. Arthur opened his mouth to reply to this, when the door opened, and Liz, Rod, and Gil walked in, followed by Ludwig and Feliciano, as well as some people who Arthur didn't recognize. Well, this conversation would clearly have to wait until later.

In a weird little way, he was almost disappointed that they had been interrupted. Even though he hadn't the slightest clue as to how he was going to respond, he had to admit that he was curious to find out. Now he would overthink it and in all likelihood say something so perfectly crafted that it was no longer the truth. However, it was still a harder thing to respond to than he had thought.

_'You still can't decide if you want me or not.' _

How was he supposed to respond to _that? _While it wasn't a question, it was still something he didn't quite know himself. _'I don't want him, do I? No, that was then. And now that we've talked things out, all of that so-called sexual tension is gone. Thank God, too. No, I don't want him. Not at all.' _ But before he could enjoy the sanity he had crafted, a voice in his head whispered, _'Lying to yourself again, Arthur? Who are you trying to fool?' _Arthur bit his lip. _'I don't want him, I don't,' _but he looked at Alfred and his heart started beating faster, and he wondered if that meant he was wrong.

"The award ceremony will start in fifteen minutes," said a man's voice over the speakers, and Arthur was acutely aware of how much time had passed. "I can't wait," said Alfred, grinning. "How about you, Arthur?"

"Yes, it should be i-interesting," he stammered. Great, his voice was failing again. Why did it seem like his social skills were deteriorating yet again? Arthur sighed, and wondered what good could possibly come of the likely tedious award ceremony. Nothing good, he thought, but that was where he was wrong.


	6. Flashback: Prom Night

**Pointless Author's Note: First of all, I don't know why this is the longest chapter. Maybe it's because telling the story of prom is a very…complicated process. Sure, let's go with that. Rest assured, it's totally not because I had way too much fun writing this. XD By the way, this chapter isn't smutty or anything, but it's the closest I'll ever get, so if the thought of two males kissing is an issue with you, skip this chapter. I doubt you care, though, because if you do I'm going to be honest here, you're probably in the wrong place. ;D**

**Oh my gosh, when I uploaded this I didn't think anybody would read it at all. I really appreciate every favorite, author alert, and review! That being said, here's the prom chapter. I can only hope I did a good job with what is, in all honesty, a touchy subject. Thank you! After this is the last chapter. (By the way, Salli is Seychelles, but I seriously don't blame you if you want to pretend she's a total stranger, I think I butchered her character. x.x)**

Everybody knows about prom night.

Sure, the pretense is a dance, and yes, for most this is more or less what prom is about. Some people, though not all, care about the prom king and the prom queen. Others care about dancing and hanging out with friends. However, for the depraved public that is the majority of high school students, prom night only equals one thing, and that is sex: ranging anywhere from reckless to romantic, casual to committed.

At the very least, this was how Arthur saw it, though he knew that others did as well, and in all honesty he didn't care about prom one way or the other. In fact, his "date" was his ex-girlfriend, Salli, who he had dated briefly his sophomore year. She had wanted a date simply because she felt the "prom experience" would not be complete without one, and she had asked Arthur because she knew he would say yes.

Arthur didn't have any romantic feelings toward Salli, and told her this, but she had only responded with, "I _know _that, but I still need a date. Just go with me? You don't even have to talk to me or hang out with me once we get there." Whatever Salli's motives were, Arthur didn't particularly care. They had broken up on peaceful terms, and he didn't dislike her, so here he was, standing outside of her door on prom night.

"Hello, Arthur," she said, her voice neither hostile nor friendly. Salli was wearing her hair down, which was incredibly rare for her, and was wearing a sea-foam colored dress. Arthur was only a little bit surprised when found himself admiring the dress itself more than the way Salli looked in it. What was there to say? Arthur loved formal clothing.

After a grueling session of pictures from Salli's parents, who also seemed to be obsessed with getting prom "right", Arthur opened the limo door for Salli. In a way, this night reminded him of the Winter Formal, in that his closest friends would be sharing a limo with him. The only difference was that this time, he was the one with a date, and Alfred was the one without one.

In all honesty, when he had informed Alfred of his date with Salli, he had noted the fact that it wasn't romantic in any way, and the fact that it was incredibly unlikely that they would even speak to each other at the dance. "So, no hotel room, then?" Alfred had asked, and Arthur had just rolled his eyes. Alfred had shrugged and said, "I bought one. You never know," and he had winked, and Arthur had just laughed at him for his wishful thinking.

"Hey, Arthur!" said Alfred, greeting him with a smile and a one-armed hug. He glanced at Salli. "Hey, Salli," he said, his voice less friendly. Arthur didn't think Alfred and Salli were friends, but they weren't enemies either. She gave him a polite nod.

"Bonjour, Salli," said Francis, smiling at her with what was probably lust in his eyes. Salli smiled faintly. "Hello, Francis. How are you?" She was only asking to be polite, Arthur was sure of it, but any attention towards Francis could be dangerous. He beckoned her to lean over with his index finger, and whispered something in her ear. When she heard it her eyes got wide and she turned away, her face completely red.

"Wow, Francis, are you going to steal Artie's date just like you did mine?" Alfred was smiling, so it was a bit hard to tell if he was joking or not.

"Oh _please_, Alfred, are we still upset over that? I thought you had moved on, really." He turned to Salli. "Don't listen to Alfred, he doesn't know anything at all, poor boy," Salli laughed politely and turned away from both of them.

"I can't wait! I'm so excited, we're finally going to our senior prom, aru!" Wang seemed to be the happiest over going to prom, a role normally filled by Alfred. This time, however, the enthusiasm award unmistakably went to Wang.

"I just hope this dance lives up to your standards. I don't want you to be disappointed," said Ivan, looking slightly concerned.

"I won't be," said Wang, simply, as if that were it. Then he whispered something into Ivan's ear and they both started laughing, a mixture between nervous laughter and happy giggling. What was with all the whispering in this limo?

"Oh, I see how it is," said Alfred, rolling his eyes and smirking. "Would you two like to share that with the rest of the class?"

"No, thank you. I'm good," said Ivan, and Wang nodded in agreement. "Me too, aru," he said.

"Fine, then. Everyone feels like being so secretive? Well, whatever!" He pulled Arthur close to him and put his lips up to his ear. Arthur felt a tingle go down his spine, and even though the only thing Alfred was whispering was the word 'whisper' repeatedly, he still had to admit that the feeling of Alfred's breath in his ear was not an unpleasant one.

"You're not fooling anyone, Alfred," said Salli in almost a monotone. Francis laughed at this.

"I like this girl, Arthur. Of course, I liked her when she dumped your ass oh-so long ago, but I feel I can say it now, yes?" Francis once again took pause to glance leeringly at Salli, who only looked away nervously and blushed. She pretended to act offended, but it was pretty clear that she liked the attention. _'Oh dear, another innocent girl falls to Francis's…well, he has no charms, but whatever his appeal his, Salli seems to have fallen for. And here I thought she was different. Oh well. I feel sorry for her,' _

Alfred shrugged. "I don't care if anyone believes me or not, as long as I'm right," and he looked at Arthur. Arthur responded, like clockwork:

"Because it's not paranoia if they're really watching you,"

It was an inside joke that Arthur and Alfred shared, prompting everyone in the car besides Salli to roll their eyes. The whole thing had started when Arthur had been staying at Alfred's house. They had gotten into a fight over a project they were doing in literature class over _Nineteen Eighty-Four. _The assignment was to create a propaganda poster that The Party might have used based off of the themes from the novel, and Alfred's idea had been to have an eye in the center of the page with "PARANOIA:" written above it, and "We Love It More Than Oppression," written underneath. While Arthur thought the idea was certainly true, he pointed out that there was no way The Party would be so direct with propaganda posters. "If you lived in Airstrip One and you put this up," he had said, "you would get arrested!"

Alfred had responded by saying, "Maybe things like this would _save _Airstrip One! Anyone would believe a poster if they think it's from the freakin' government!" Arthur had rolled his eyes.

"You're wrong! No one would believe you! You would be seen as a thoughtcriminal!"

"I don't care if anyone believes me or not, as long as I'm right!" Alfred had replied. Then he had paused, and added, "And anyway, I was only saying that everyone in Airstrip One seems to be ruled by paranoia!"

Arthur had considered this. Then, he had responded bitterly, "It's not paranoia if they really are watching you, you know."

They had continued to argue for a little while, in the end deciding on a completely different idea for their poster. But the next day Alfred had mentioned something about a math test being that day, Arthur had said 'liar, you're just trying to psych me out,' and then Alfred had smirked and said, "I don't care if you believe me or not, as long as I'm right!" And they had both laughed, and that was how the somewhat random inside joke between them had been born.

"Oh, God, not this again," muttered Francis. Salli looked confused, and Francis added, "If you know what's good for you, you probably shouldn't ask. It has something to do with them having an argument while they were spending the night together and it spawned such good makeup sex that they made a joke out of it," and he smirked as he said it. Salli looked alarmed.

"Oh? You mean they are a couple?" She turned to Arthur. "I didn't know that. I mean, don't misunderstand, I knew you two liked each other, but I didn't know things had, ah, gone that far," and she smiled nervously.

"What? No! No, Salli, Alfred and I, we're just friends. No, we never slept together." _'Best not to mention that I would if I could,' _he thought. He glared at Francis, who only shrugged.

"Whatever, it's only a matter of time."

Alfred laughed, and Arthur was sure he detected nervousness in his laughter, just as he had in Salli's smile. "Um, yeah, Salli, we're only best friends." Then he put his arm around Arthur and grinned exaggeratedly. "With benefits on the weekends," he added, winking at Arthur. He rolled his eyes. Lately, Alfred was fond of making jokes that implied he and Arthur were a couple. What made them hurt even more was that Alfred apparently found the idea of them being together to be so damn funny that he felt the need to make jokes about it. Thus, they were always pretty poorly received.

"Don't touch me," Arthur said, lifting Alfred's arm off of him. He would have loved to leave it there, but since it was there to remind him of how Alfred would really feel about being "friends with benefits," he didn't want to be touched at all. For a split second, he thought he saw a look of hurt flash across Alfred's face, but if it was there, it was instantly replaced with a typical Alfred smile.

"Hey, look, we're at the dance!" he exclaimed. So they were.

They all went to wait in line so they could show the chaperone their tickets. They got in line behind Feliciano and Ludwig. _'Why is it that I always run into them?' _he thought to himself. Alfred looked at Feliciano and Ludwig, too, and smiled.

"Hey! Feli! Excited for prom?" It was a foolish question to ask, even for Alfred. Feliciano was excited about _everything,_ it seemed, and it was a huge contributor to why Arthur rarely talked to him. Every word that came out of his mouth seemed to be cheery and optimistic, which grated on Arthur's nerves. "Yay! We almost beat Carrie Christine High School!" "Yay! Burnt pizza for lunch!" "Yay! Everyone thinks I'm giving my BFF hand jobs in the school bathroom! It's written all over the stalls, and I've never denied it! But I'm so dim, I probably don't even know what that means! _Yay!_"

Okay, so he was being a little mean. _'My despise of happy people is probably something I should work on,' _he thought. _'And maybe I should be less judgmental of someone who appears to be in love with his best friend,' _but that thought made his cheeks feel hot and he tried not to dwell on it.

As predicted, Feliciano turned around, a smile on his face. "Yes! Oh my gosh, it's going to be totally awesome! I've been waiting so long," he said, his voice fluctuating in pitch from high to squealing. He clutched Ludwig's arm. "Neither of us got dates, so we're going," he explained. In a way, Arthur had to give him props. He had pointed out that they were going together without elaborating on whether or not they were going _together. _Still, it was fairly clear which of the two it was, and anyway, he probably hadn't even meant to do it. Feliciano didn't seem to be the type to be evasive about anything; the boy apparently kept no secrets.

"Hey, man, that's killer! I don't have a date, but Arthur here does." Feliciano's eyes widened in shock.

"Really? Oh, wow! I didn't know you were seeing someone bes-" He cut himself short, and looked at his shoes. What? What had he been about to say. "Anyway," he trilled, "that's really great, Arthur."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Um, actually, I was really just giving Salli a ride, so to speak. She wasn't my date, and we aren't dating," he finished. Why was this conversation making him feel incredibly awkward?

"Oh! Okay! So that means you and Alfred-" and once again Feliciano was silenced. This time he noticed that Ludwig (who was incredibly quiet and rarely talked to anyone, from what he could tell) had been whispering something in Feliciano's ear. His eyes grew as wide as saucers, and he nodded his head. Feliciano's whispers were easier to hear—it was almost like a stage whisper. Arthur didn't know what Ludwig had said to prompt, "Oh my gosh? Really? But I thought they were. Oh. Well, they shouldn't be so misleading!" as a response. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I'm sorry, guys! I'm so confused today," he said, and he did look apologetic.

"It's alright, Feli, an honest mistake really. I myself just think of them as an established couple, it's easier for me that way." Ugh. _'Shut the fuck up, Francis.' _

Alfred grinned. Again, it seemed nervous, but Arthur assumed this was himself projecting. "Well, Artie and I are very close," and he pressed himself up against Arthur's shoulder. It was almost a hug, almost not, and it made Arthur feel very awkward. Even so, he hugged him back. What else could he do? Just because he was a pervert who actually _wanted _Alfred's body pressed against him didn't mean that was how everyone else saw it. Well, except for the head cheerleader and the quarterback, who apparently saw beyond what was on the surface. Damn. Luckily, the only other person who entertained the notion was Francis, who saw sexual tension where there was none, and no one listened to him. It also seemed like Ludwig wanted Feliciano to keep quiet about whatever it is he did know, so that was good.

"Yay! It's our turn!" If Feliciano and Ludwig were about to go in, that meant soon he would have to go in as well. If he was to be perfectly honest, the blacklights and punch bowls and formal clothing were intimidating. Despite this, he was shocked to find that he had a little bit of hope, a small suspicion that maybe something good would happen tonight. He walked inside after handing in his ticket, and waited for everyone else.

Francis was the first one to run over to the punch bowl, looking all too happy that no one was guarding it. _'Note to self, stay the hell away from the punch.' _Come to think of it, whose idea was it to have a giant, unguarded bowl full of an unidentifiable liquid that anyone could just walk up to? Arthur had suspected for quite a while that the school board was tragically incompetent, and this only served to validate this in his mind.

Matthew and Katyusha walked afterwards (it would be the first and only time Arthur would notice either of them for the rest of the night) followed by Salli, who gave Arthur a small wave. "Best of luck," she said, and Arthur was only left to wonder, with what? Ivan and Wang walked in afterwards, holding hands, and finally it was him and Alfred.

"Thanks for waiting, puddin'!" he said, grinning. Pet names were also common now that Alfred's favorite joke was "what if we were dating, omigod what a laugh riot!" and Arthur cringed. In general, he hated pet names to begin with, but if they weren't being used to mock him, he probably would have tolerated them for Alfred. However, since they were only being used to reinforce the fact that Alfred now thought the idea of them having any romance was fucking _hilarious, _he despised them more than he ever thought he could.

"Don't mention it," he muttered, and Alfred looked concerned.

"What's wrong? You seem pissy," he said, frowning. "Maybe what you need is some of that no-doubt spiked as fuck punch!" Before Arthur could object, Alfred ran off to get some. Arthur decided to stand there by the wall and wait for him.

While he was waiting, Liz walked up to him. Arthur had to admit she looked nice; her hair was in an updo, and she was wearing a green cocktail dress. "Hello, Arthur!" Her voice was friendly, but not overly cheerful. "Nice tux," she said, pinching a bit of the elbow's fabric in her fingers. "Where's Alfred?"

"Why do you assume I know where he is? Maybe I don't, Liz. Of course, as his "best friend" I happen to know he's off getting me some of that tainted punch. But what makes you think I would know?" He hadn't meant to sound so pissed off, but in a way, he was pissed off, and he had accidentally revealed it in his tone.

"Um, Arthur, are you mad at me because I thought you might know where Alfred went? Because you _did _know where he went. You just told me." Arthur sighed.

"I apologize, Liz," he said, resigned. At the very least, he had to be polite. Arthur prided himself on having excellent manners, though he certainly didn't feel like his etiquette had been very good as of late.

"I don't want an apology, I want an explanation," said Liz, frowning slightly. "What's going on? I say the name 'Alfred' and suddenly you're all hostile." At that moment, Alfred walked up, holding two tiny cups of pinkish-purple liquid. "Okay, you may have won this time," she said, clearly knowing that there was no way Arthur was going to talk about Alfred with him right there. "But mark my words, Arthur Kirkland, I will find the source of your angst," and with that she walked away.

"Angst? Arthur, is there something you aren't telling me?" Arthur shook his head numbly. "Okay, but just know that you can tell me anything," he said, putting a hand on Arthur's shoulder. _'That's the funniest bloody thing I've heard all night. You really don't get it, do you?' _

"Right. Of course." Alfred handed him a cup of God-knows what, and Arthur took a small sip. It was alright, he supposed. Someone had spiked it with rum, and he was fairly certain he detected vodka, so he knew that the stuff was probably going to knock him off his ass, but he was fine with that. He could also taste about a pinch of some kind of fruit. "It's not horrible," he admitted.

"Are you joking? I thought that was the nastiest stuff in the world! Of course, I still drank it, because I want to get as drunk as hell tonight, but I didn't like it." He smiled at Arthur. "I still think that when they handed out taste buds, you got a defected set." Perhaps it was true. One of the things Arthur found frustrating was that he would cook something and find it delicious, and everyone else would tell him it was horrible. His apparent 'lack of taste' was something he had grown used to, but once in a while he would be reminded of it and feel that pang of frustration again.

"These are like shots," said Arthur, noting that the 'serving size' style of the cups made it particularly easy to down like a shot glass.

"I know," said Alfred, grinning. "It's like they don't even care!"

"So, what's your reason for wanting to get completely bent?" asked Arthur. Alfred tilted his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak British," and he laughed. "I still can't believe that you don't sound American by now. You've been here for four years and you still sound as British as the day I met you."

Arthur knew he had a point. For whatever reason, he had the uncanny ability to retain his accent. He was sure that after a year he would sound as American as the next guy, but he still used British slang and still spoke with the same accent he had for his whole life. "It means drunk," he explained. "I was wondering why you wanted to drink so much,"

Alfred nodded. "Ah. _That. _Well, the thing about that is, I don't really know. It's not like I'm trying to talk a girl into sleeping with me, so I don't have to worry about that like our poor man, Francis." He gestured towards Francis, who was trying to convince Salli to have a drink of the punch. "I only got a hotel room to say that I did. Clearly, I'm here talking to you, rather than stalking some chick."

"If I didn't know any better, I would think it was me you were trying to seduce," said Arthur dryly. He didn't mean it, of course, but he said it anyway. If Alfred could joke like that, so could he, even if his was of a slightly more jaded variety.

Alfred laughed. "Haha, I guess it seems like that, now that I think about it. I'm not, though," he said, and Arthur couldn't help but feel disappointed. He had known this wasn't true, but he wanted it to be so badly that it was nearly blinding him. He sighed. Now he felt like the one who needed a drink.

"Could you do me a favor and get me another one of those…things, I don't really know?" asked Arthur.

"Sure thing, princess. One shot of something awful, coming right up," and he left to get some. Alfred sat down against the wall. When Alfred came back, he had a tray that held about ten sloshy, near-full cups of punch.

"How the hell did you get that?" asked Arthur, appalled.

"I told them I had friends to give drinks to, and they gave me this."

"And they believed you? You are such an atrocious liar," said Arthur. How had that happened? And who was going to drink all of those drinks? They were effectively shots, and Arthur already felt a little woozy.

Alfred smirked, like he had wanted him to say that. "I don't care if anyone believes me, as long as I'm right." Oh. Arthur had walked into that one. Still, he couldn't help but smile, too.

"Because it's not paranoia if they're really watching you," he responded. He picked up a glass of the punch. "Are you seriously going to drink ten of these? You'll die," he muttered.

"Of course not, Arthur. What do you think I am, an idiot?"

"You don't want me to answer that."

"_Anyway, _I got them because you and I are going to play a game. It's called "I Never" and it's awesome." Arthur groaned. He knew how to play the game Alfred spoke of (one person would name an activity, and if they had done the activity, they would drink), but he also knew it wouldn't be very fun, namely because Alfred was experienced and Arthur was, well…not.

Alfred picked up a glass. "I'll start," he said, and paused to think. "I never failed all four core subjects at once," he said, and took a shot. Arthur knew that story, and it wasn't a particularly pleasant one. Arthur picked up a glass, trying desperately to think of something he could use.

"I've never stolen money," he said, and took a shot. It was the closest to 'badass' he could come up with, and if prompted for the real story he probably wouldn't give it. He had stolen birthday money from his little brother, and then he had given it back, so in the end it didn't matter. Hopefully, Alfred didn't know that story.

"Yeah right! What, you mean that time you stole $20 from Peter? That so doesn't count," he said, and laughed. So he did know. Damn. "Let's see," said Alfred, picking up another glass. "I've never been skinny dipping," he said, and took a drink. Another thing Arthur had no interest in doing and probably never would. He was vaguely curious as to when Alfred had gone swimming naked, but decided it was best if he didn't think about it. At least you couldn't see blushing in a blacklight.

"I've never played "I Never"," said Arthur, taking a drink. The drink went down easier now. Arthur wasn't sure if he was really drunk or if it was just a placebo effect, but he did know that he felt warm all over and that the game suddenly seemed more fun than it had before.

"Come on! Really?" asked Alfred, who thought this was cheating. "So we're doing obvious things now? Fine, I see how it is," said Alfred, taking a drink. He looked Arthur right in the eyes. "I've never kissed a guy before," he said, and took another drink.

Arthur felt his cheeks grow even hotter. He wondered how red his face was, and he picked up a drink. Now there were only two left. Had they actually gone through seven shots of this questionable liquid? _Francis _had been near it! There could be anything in there! Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get worked up about it. He was too happy. Feeling a bit of courage, Arthur spoke slowly, tripping over his words a bit. "I've never wanted to do it again," he said, downing his drink. To his shock, he saw Alfred take one of the glasses, too. Now there was only one drink left. Huh. How had that happened?

"Hang on, I want to do this one," said Alfred. "I want to think of a good one," he said, studying the glass as if it held all of the answers. Finally, he looked up, once again holding eye contact with Arthur, who looked away. "I don't know, actually. I can't think of anything. Everything I've come up with is bad," he admitted.

"Oh, that's alright," said Arthur, waving his hand. "To be perfectly honest, I'm still surprised that you just drank. Much too surprised to care if your next "I Never" is bad or not." He smiled dumbly at Alfred. He wasn't sure why he felt so willing to give away personal information, but he was, and he didn't even mind. It was funny how that worked.

"Maybe we should stop playing, since there's only one drink. Want to share it?" asked Alfred. Arthur nodded. He held the cup to his lips, delicately, and drank about half of it, which was somewhat challenging since there was only a little liquid there to begin with. He set it down, and Alfred downed the rest.

"So, what now?" asked Arthur.

"Hmm…how about a best friends with benefits hug?" he asked, smiling broadly.

"I don't know what that is," said Arthur, confused. Was that something they had done before? If it was, he couldn't remember. It sounded promising though, so he stood up.

Alfred got up off of the floor and almost immediately wrapped his arms around Arthur, holding him tightly. Arthur hugged him back, aware that his hands were around his neck, which probably looked odd. In all honesty, he didn't care. His mind was a mixture of half-thoughts, and they all seemed to blend together at once; an odd combination of what the punch tasted like, what Alfred's shampoo smelled like, and a hazy observation of someone's hand grabbing his ass. Oh, it was probably Alfred, he realized. He smiled, giggling slightly. _'See, if I were sober, I would probably be flustered,' _he thought to himself. The alcohol, whatever it had been, had caused him to forget to be embarrassed.

"Wow, you must be wasted! If you weren't, you probably would have slapped me!" Alfred exclaimed after the hug had ended. He was right, of course.

"I probably would have," said Arthur. This time he was laughing. "But what can I say? I'm in a good mood tonight."

"That's because you're drunk," said Alfred. "But that's okay, because I am too." Then he turned his head slightly. "OH MY GOD ARTHUR IT'S OUR SONG!" he screamed, grabbing Arthur's shoulders and jumping up and down. Arthur listened to what was playing. It was a Lady GaGa song, but he couldn't tell which one. Still, he was fairly compliant as Alfred took his hand and dragged him closer to the speakers.

In all honesty, even if he was sober Arthur didn't think he would have been able to understand the lyrics. He heard something about a pop show, and then something about tasting like glitter, or at least that's what it sounded like. On a normal day, Arthur wouldn't have even tried to dance, but he was plastered and he danced like an idiot. He noticed Alfred laughing as he danced, and singing some of the words.

"_I like you a lot lot ,think you're really hot hot," _he sang, throwing his arms in the air. "Fuck! I love this song!" said Alfred, closing his eyes and smiling broadly. Arthur smiled too, and pretended he was singing to him.

Arthur had to admit, the song was catchy. He watched in admiration as Alfred danced perfectly to the beat. _"Let's go see The Killers and make out in the bleachers,"_ he sang, and Arthur was reminded of the time Alfred had gotten him a CD of The Killers for his 15th birthday. Good times.

When the song ended, Arthur followed Arthur back to the wall where they had been before. "I didn't know you liked Lady GaGa," said Arthur, if only because he felt like he should say something.

Alfred nodded vehemently. "Hells yes!" he exclaimed. "And that one is particularly boss," he said. "How much time is left?" Arthur checked his watch. He suddenly hated that his watch had roman numerals instead of numbers. They all seemed to blur together, but eventually he got the time right.

"An hour and forty-five minutes," he said. "You must really hate dances," he said. Alfred never seemed to stay at one.

"Why? Because I always ditch out? That's because there's always something more fun to be doing," he said. Arthur thought back to the first dance they had both been to, which had been the Winter Formal their freshman year. (Arthur hadn't moved to America until November, so he had missed the first Halloween dance.) At that dance, Alfred had called his mom to pick him up, and to Arthur's shock he had asked Arthur along, too. They had ended up playing video games until one in the morning. Now that he thought about it, every dance had ended with them both leaving to do something else.

"Really?" he asked. Of course it was true for him, but Alfred was his only friend. Alfred had several girls who liked him and lots of friends. Why did he always choose to spend his time with him?

Alfred nodded. "Without question! I mean, think about this year," he said, smiling. "Well, last time wasn't so great since I was all bent out of shape about Jamie," he said, thoughtfully. "You know, I really can't remember why I was so pissed off at her. She wasn't so bad. Just another confused fish," he said. "I mean, I was a total dumbass in 9th grade, myself." Arthur didn't say anything.

"I always have more fun when I'm with you," said Arthur. He wondered why that had been so hard to say. Duh! If only everything could be this easy all the time! He felt like he could tell Alfred anything.

"Well, yeah, me too. Obviously. You're my best friend forever," said Alfred, but his voice was softer than usual. He looked at Arthur for a long time. "Want to follow tradition?"

"Already?" What Arthur was actually thinking was _'Where would we go?' _He felt his heart speed up when he remembered what Alfred had bought 'just to say he had'. Not that anything would happen, but at the very least he would be going into a hotel room with Alfred. Just to say he had.

Alfred nodded. "We can say goodbye to our hombres, if you want, but I think we've gotten enough mileage out of this dance." Arthur giggled a little. Why was Alfred speaking Spanish? _So_ random.

"I don't think we should. Say goodbye, I mean. Because, do you know where anyone is?" The group of people dancing looked intimidating and started to seem like a mob to Arthur. He didn't want to go into it. "Besides, we don't care about Francis, and Wang and Ivan probably aren't dancing so who knows where _they _are. Who does that leave?" Arthur wasn't sure why he wanted to leave, but he had the sudden urge to get out of there.

"Well, I was only asking because 33 is at the punch table right now, and they're kind of cool, right?" Oh. That was true. 33 was kind of cool. He followed Alfred to the punch bowl, where he heard Rod and Gil fighting.

"Gilbert, you are being incredibly immature. You made a huge mistake toying with me, I can assure you of that."

"Oh, please! What are you going to do, hit me with your piano? I think you're just upset because of the idea that maybe, just maybe, the girl you can't get over has decided to move on!"

"Liz doesn't love you! She just doesn't know what's good for her!"

"And that's you? Mr. Possessive? Listen to yourself! You sound so full of yourself! Liz can make her own decisions, and she has, and that's clearly why you have such a stick up your ass!"

"_Hurensohn_!"

"Oh, so now we're swearing in German now? Really, Roddy? Is that so you won't offend Lizzy's delicate sensibilities? Well, guess what, Roderich? She's a big girl. I think she can handle it."

Meanwhile, Liz looked completely mortified. She held her head in her hands, muttering what were probably curse words in Hungarian. Alfred glanced at Arthur.

"Um, hello everyone!" Rod and Gilbert turned to look at them.

"Oh. Hey, guys." Gil glared at Rod, and then turned to face them. "Enjoying prom?"

"Yeah, it's been cool," said Alfred, looking at his shoes. "I'm a little drunk, though," he said.

"We can tell," said Rod. "You're slurring your words, and both of you are leaning all over each other."

Why did every word out of Rod's mouth have to sound so _mean_? Arthur wasn't really hurt, though. They were both slurring their words, and he did notice that he was sort of having a hard time standing up straight. "We're leaving and wanted to say bye," said Arthur.

Gil nodded. "Have fun, you two. Use protection." Then he turned to Liz. "Do you want to leave, too?"

"Yes, but I'd rather go alone. You're both being insufferable!" she said. Liz turned to Alfred and Arthur. "Bye, guys. Have a nice night." Then she stormed off. Arthur and Alfred decided at that point to leave, listening to Rod and Gil accuse each other of driving Liz away.

"It's too bad you didn't bring your camero," said Arthur, stumbling slightly as he walked.

"Don't hurt yourself, babe," said Alfred, grabbing Arthur's shoulder to keep him from falling. The pet name thing seemed less annoying now, so he allowed himself to smile dimly at being called 'babe'. "And yes, I should have, but didn't. So, um, what are we going to do?" Arthur racked his brain for options. He was about to completely give up (critical thinking wasn't his strong point at this exact moment) when he noticed a limo still in the parking lot. They walked over to it.

"Um, hello?" asked Alfred, tapping on the glass. To Arthur's shock, it was their limousine driver. He appeared to have fallen asleep, but he woke up.

"Oh! Is prom over already?" he asked, looking slightly alarmed.

"Nah, we just need a ride. Is that cool? You can probably be back before prom actually ends. It's like, ten minutes away from here. It's the Comfort Inn," said Alfred. The driver raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Okay, I can do that," he said.

Arthur and Alfred went into the back seat. "So," said Arthur, "we're going to that hotel room you got?" Alfred nodded.

"Yeah, I already wasted the money, you know? Don't worry, I won't jump your bones or anything," he said, but the way he said it almost seemed flirtatious. Arthur laughed. (He was laughing a lot tonight, it seemed.)

"Oh, I don't care if you do," he said, lying down on the seat. "At least my headache would go away," he said. Alfred looked at him. From Arthur's angle, he looked upside-down.

"What? Already? But you just got drunk, you shouldn't be hung over yet!" Then he paused. "Then again, you still act drunk. Sober Arthur would never be so 'whatever' about what I just said."

Arthur shook his head. "I had a headache before I drank that…stuff, that was in those glasses. What was that, anyway? It can't have been anything good," he observed. Actually, he felt pretty good, headache notwithstanding. "You know, you look funny upside down," he said, squinting.

"Funny? Is that a good adjective, or should I be offended?"

"No, it's definitely a good thing," said Arthur, after a bit of thought. "I'm just too shy to say handsome or beautiful or hot, or any of the other things going through my mind right now. So, I said funny. Damn. I'm bloody awful at this," he said, his words running together as he muttered what was probably the most honest thing he had said to Alfred in a while.

"Really? You think I'm handsome, beautiful, and hot?" Oh, no, had he freaked Alfred out. Well. That would be awful. It would be reason enough to never drink again, but then Alfred did a fist pump.

"Yes! Man, you just made my day! Sit upright so I can hug you," he said, pulling Arthur up from the reclined position he was in.

When Alfred sat up straight, Arthur hugged him, but this one wasn't like a best friends hug or a best friends with benefits hug, because it was more like a tackle. "Now, why did you have me get up?" murmured Arthur, smiling up at Alfred. Meanwhile, he was thinking. _'Alfred is on top of me. I don't know what I did, but I must have done a good job. Go me!' _"I'm lying down again," he said.

"That's true," said Alfred. "I don't know. I'm drunk, okay, don't expect me to think too critically." They both laughed, somewhat nervously.

"I don't think your face has ever been this close to mine," said Arthur. He could feel his breath on his face. Normally, he would have pushed Alfred off of him long ago, but what could he say? He was fine where he was, really.

"Well, that's not true," said Alfred. "At Halloween-" and suddenly he was interrupted by the honking of a horn. Oh. Arthur supposed that was their cue to get out. Alfred reached over Arthur to open the door, holding it open. "Go ahead," he said.

"Um, I can't," said Arthur.

"Oh, right," he said, and he got off of him. He still kept the door held open.

"Such a gentleman," said Arthur as he got out of the car, followed by Alfred. They headed towards the hotel.

"You know," said Alfred in the lobby, "I'm glad that we got here early. Lots of horny couples will probably head straight here after the prom." He walked up to the counter. "Um, hi, I'm Alfred F. Jones," he said, pulling his driver's license from the inside of his tuxedo. The man at the counter looked jaded. Arthur felt sorry for him._ 'I used to be like him, but now I'm happy,' _he thought, and he smiled. The man scowled, typed into the computer, and gave him a room key. Arthur wondered if he was going to say anything else. He didn't, so they left.

"What's your room number?" asked Arthur.

"One twenty-two," he said, and scratched his head. "Wow, is that seriously on this floor? So we don't have to us the elevator at all? Killer!" He grabbed Arthur's hand. "Come on," he said, running. "Let's go!"

They ran through the hallways, probably annoying lots of people in the process, until they found their room. Alfred jabbed his card into the slot, and pushed the door open when it lit green. Arthur thought the room looked beautiful. In fact, it seemed to shine. Why couldn't his house look like this? Everything glowed. "Isn't it lovely?" he asked.

Alfred shrugged. "It's a hotel room, I really don't care one way or the other." He took his jacket off, kicked off his shoes and socks, and untucked his shirt in the first thirty seconds of walking in. Arthur decided to follow suit, hanging his jacket on a nearby coat hanger, setting his shoes neatly by the door with his socks laying across them, and untucking his shirt lastly. "Dude," said Alfred, "Why are you so neat about everything?" Arthur cocked his head.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, and Alfred gestured towards his shoes.

"Those are too neat!" He almost sounded accusatory.

"Oh, I'm sorry that I didn't throw everything around like a loon the way you did," he said, scoffing. He couldn't help it, though; soon he was cracking up. After he stopped, he walked over to the couch and sat down, noting that it was surprisingly comfortable considering Alfred had probably gotten a pretty cheap room. Alfred sat down next to him, too.

There were a few minutes of silence. Arthur found it awkward, and it felt much longer than it actually was. "So," he said, tapping his bare feet against the carpet.

"So," said Alfred, now looking at him.

"Um," said Arthur, "not to be rude, but what now?"

That was how they had ended up kissing.

Well, actually, Arthur wasn't sure how it happened, only that one moment the tension between them had seemed worse than ever and that the next moment it all melted away. They had started out upright, but that hadn't lasted long and soon Alfred was on top of him, just as he had been in the limo.

It wasn't like Arthur had never thought about this (he had), but he was genuinely surprised at how _good _it felt. It was much better to actually experience something than to just think about it, he had decided. He wrapped his arms around Alfred, feeling the inexplicable need to run his fingers through his hair. For some reason, kissing him seemed even better than when he had done it at the Halloween dance. Maybe it was because he could admit to liking it, even in his own head.

They had been kissing for a while, occasionally stopping to breathe but only doing so briefly, when Alfred broke the kiss. _'No,' _thought Arthur, but he didn't say anything. At first Arthur wondered why Alfred had stopped, until he noticed him trying vainly to unbutton his shirt. "Oh," said Arthur softly. "I can do it,"

"No," he said, "I'm doing it. It's more romantic if I do it for you," he said. Alfred cared about being romantic? Huh. Who knew?

"No, really, it's fine, " said Arthur. "I used to have to wear suits all the time, I can undo a shirt in ten seconds flat," he said.

"Well, maybe it's better if it takes longer," he said. Maybe he was right. Still, Arthur found it to utterly confusing, at best; how having Alfred completely fail at undoing a button, again and again, seemed to be both torture and ecstasy. Somehow, though, he had managed to do it, and soon the shirt was on the floor. Just like magic.

"Are we really doing this?" asked Arthur. Immediately, Alfred looked concerned.

"Do you not want to? Oh, God, I'm really sorry, I just thought you-"

"I do, I do, I just can't believe it. I feel like I won the lottery," mumbled Arthur, feeling a smile on his face. It was a bit like going to the dentist and being under the 'laughing gas', he thought, except everything was sharper instead of fuzzier. He felt Alfred pull him into another kiss. _'I've beaten the odds,' _he thought to himself. _'I can't believe this is happening. God, I'm lucky,' _and he thought about all of the possibilities for 'prom night', feeling tingly as he did so.

Yes, everyone knows about prom night. Arthur had never suspected that he would be one of the people celebrating it.


	7. You Can't Spell Awkward Without Award

**Regarding Anachronism:**

**Okay, I kind of screwed up here. I tried to be all awesome and accurate with the years here. If they're 28, then they would have to be the graduating class of '00 **_**I think. **_**Of course, I'm tragically awful at this kind of math, so if I'm wrong then I'm wrong and that can't be helped.**

**The point is, while I've tried to skirt around things like cell phones and whatnot, by mentioning a certain (addictively appropriate, but still) Lady GaGa song, I think I may have screwed up my timeline. Oops.**

**So, just take the shameless anachronism for what it is. I'm aware of the mistake, but I have no plans to change it. Here, let me distract you with some delicious awkwardness! **

"Welcome to the Gage Jason High School Class of '00 Reunion!"

Famous last words.

Was there anything more depressing than seeing your old school principal after ten years had passed? Clearly, time had not been kind to poor Principal Donovan. Arthur recalled how terrifying it had been to meet the principal on his first day of school, how intimidating he had seemed. Now all he saw was a sad, sad man.

"I don't think there are words to express just how happy I am to see all of you!" How true was that? Did Principal Donovan know each and every student personally, or even by name? Doubtful.

"I'm sure your lives have all been impacted for the better, and we can't wait to give out the awards. You see, these awards are not about who you are today, but rather, who you _were. _You may or may not recall voting on these your senior year. Most Popular, Best Dressed, Cutest Couple. The idea here is to see who all has changed since those long-ago high school days!" Lovely, just lovely. At the very least, Arthur knew he wouldn't have to get up. Anyway, he could hope.

"So, I guess I've been rambling long enough!" He paused for laughter that didn't come. "Get ready to hear your awards!" The assistant principal, a woman by the name of Tracy Taylor, walked onstage and held a sheet of paper in her hands, while Principal Donovan walked over to a table that had cheap looking trophies on it. Receiving one of those would be downright embarrassing.

"Hello, my name is Tracy Taylor; you all might remember me as Ms. Taylor. Tonight, we'll be reading the awards for Most School Spirit, Class Clown, Most Serious, Best Dressed Male & Female, Most Popular Male & Female, Most Dramatic, Most Likely to Succeed, Most Cheerful, and Cutest Couple." Her voice was a disinterested monotone, like she didn't want to be there any more than the audience.

"First, we have the award for Most School Spirit, which goes to…" She squinted at the sheet. "Feliks…um…" Arthur felt a bit sorry for her. Gage Jason High School, for whatever reason, was very popular for people from other countries. Arthur knew a lot of the names were probably hard to pronounce. Luckily for her, there had only been one Feliks, and he was already running on stage.

"Like, hi guys! Oh, my God. I am so honored!" Well, that made sense. While Feliks had not been a member of any school-affiliated team, he had always been the one screaming the loudest at the football games and had worn the school's colors (aqua and green) on a regular basis. Ms. Taylor handed Feliks a little trophy with a cheerleader's megaphone on it. He looked so happy as he went back to his seat.

"Next we have the Class Clown award. You all voted for Gilbert B-" She frowned at the sheet, and muttered something under her breath. "Um, I think it's German?" she said. "Come on, if you're a Gilbert, come up? Please?" Arthur chuckled a little under his breath. He had never been particularly fond of Ms. Taylor (she had always seemed too toned, blonde, and plastic to be a school administrator, in Arthur's opinion), and seeing her struggle was amusing. Still, Gilbert was onstage soon, once again saving her from having to pronounce a difficult name.

"Holy crap," he said. "I just, I don't know what to say. I'm speechless, really." _'We wish,' _thought Arthur. "But, I really want to thank all of you, for all of your support. Rod, I want to thank you. You were the straight man to my awesomeness, and without you I would have seemed slightly less funny." Then he paused, for almost a second. "But I also want to thank Lizzy. Just…thanks," he said, clutching the trophy with a laughing face on it in his hands and leaving the stage.

Ms. Taylor, despite all of her hardships, kept a sunshiny smile on her face. "Now, for this next award, it's Most Serious, and it goes to—_no. _Really? Again? Are they brothers or something?" In all likelihood, her muttering wasn't audible to everyone, but because they were sitting near the front row, Arthur heard her lamenting quite clearly. "Um, Ludwig Beilschmidt? Is that right?" She let out a laugh that sounded tragically forced. "I apologize if I get some of your names wrong." While she had mispronounced his last name slightly, she hadn't done too bad, all things considered. Arthur found that focusing on Ms. Taylor's faults was the only way he could cope with the utter boredom of the assembly.

Ludwig walked on the stage, his face as stoic as ever, and proving to everyone that nothing had changed, if appearances were to be believed. He took his trophy, which had a blank-faced man on it, and left the stage. Arthur felt sorry for him. Getting up in front of your former peers to accept a meaningless award had to be utterly mortifying. _'I am so glad I'm not you right now,'_ he thought.

Okay, so he was tempting fate a little. It was just another way he coped with the tedium the award ceremony had offered. In fact, it was yet _another _thing that hadn't changed at all. Gage Jason High School was not known for its particularly innovative or interesting assemblies.

The rest of the assembly was a bit of a blur, because in all honesty Arthur didn't care at all about the awards, and by the fourth one even the painful mispronunciations couldn't keep his attention. Sure, he clapped politely when Roderich won 'Best Dressed Male' (not that it had been surprising in the slightest; Roderich had always dressed to the nines regardless of the occasion) but after that his interest had taken a decline. 'Most Popular' had gone to a pair of students that Arthur hadn't even heard of, let alone associated with; 'Most Dramatic' had gone to Francis, which admittedly had made Arthur snicker a little bit, and he and Alfred had shared a _look_. After that was the inevitable 'Most Likely to Succeed' award, which had gone to Honda, and based off of the suit he wore, Arthur suspected that this was true. Perhaps the least shocking of all was when Feliciano was voted 'Most Cheerful', and when he flounced on the stage, grinning like mad, Arthur had to admit that he was a little jealous. It seemed that ignorant bliss would always elude him. Feliciano always had seemed a little dim, but he was happy, which was more than Arthur could say.

"Next, we have a very…ahem, _special _award," said Ms. Taylor, in a tone of voice that indicated she wanted to substitute "weird" for "special". "The 'cutest couple' award is one that has been a staple of high schools everywhere. Everyone 's heard of high-school sweethearts, after all." Wow. Arthur seriously pitied the unfortunate couple who would be called on stage and, no doubt, mocked mercilessly. At the very least, _he _would mock them mercilessly.

"In 2000, all of you showed an amazing tolerance that was ahead of your times. Now, homosexual couples are common, but back then it wasn't always something you talked about." Oh, so it was a homosexual couple? There had been many at his school, of course, but he couldn't recall any who had made it official. Could she be referring to Ludwig and Feliciano? They had been pretty adorable, now that he thought of it, and almost sickeningly so. Plus, if what had been written on the bathroom walls was any indication, everyone had fancied them as a couple regardless of what was official.

"And so, I am happy to announce the Cutest Couple for Gage Jason High School. Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland, please come on stage!"

What? No. Oh, please, God, let this be a fever dream. No way was this happening. This was all just a horrible nightmare, brought on by a flu or dementia or something. It could be anything, because anything was better than this. Arthur felt his face heat up. It was funny; before tonight, it had been years since he had blushed. It was a habit he sincerely hoped he had dropped, and now this was, what, the eighth time he had caught himself doing it? Damn.

Alfred pulled Arthur out of his seat. "You heard her, Artie! That's _us,_" he said, grabbing Arthur's hand and dragging him to the stage. No, there was no way this was happening! Arthur refused to accept it.

Unfortunately, though, it was happening, and soon they were on stage. "Now, boys," said Ms. Taylor, her voice inquisitive. It reminded Arthur of the reaction people had to circus freaks. "I want to ask you a few questions, since this is, after all, a very _special _award." _'Was the emphasis on special really necessary? So we're two boys, and we're together, big deal. Wait. No! We aren't together! We aren't! Ah!'_ It took every ounce of self-control he had to stop himself from screaming profanities out of frustration.

"Hey, no problem!" said Alfred. Of course. He was naturally charismatic; he probably wasn't even embarrassed right now. _'I hate you,'_ thought Arthur, longing for a time when there might have been an ounce of truth to that statement.

"So, first of all, what was it like, being a gay couple in high school? How did you deal with the judgment?" Arthur rolled his eyes. _'Depends on how you define 'gay couple', really. If you define it as one night of mind-blowing sex and then utter isolation, then you have us in a bloody nutshell!' _Wait. Had he thought the adjective 'mind-blowing'? No, of course not. It was high school, for God's sake. It probably hadn't even been that good.

Probably.

Alfred gave the audience his award winning smile. "People are very judgmental no matter _what _you do. You know? You could be an all-A student, captain of the football team, the works, but if you don't keep up the status quo…" He shook his head. "But anyway, Artie and I weren't really an 'official couple', more of that unspoken kind."

"Still are, actually," said Arthur. And Alfred laughed. Damn him for laughing.

"You could say that," he agreed.

"Well, I guess being voted "Cutest Couple" is kind of a way of saying that you're a couple, wouldn't you say?" Right now, Arthur hated Ms. Taylor more than he had ever thought possible.

"I don't know, Arthur here is pretty stubborn. But no matter what you call us, I would still say that we have a, ah…" For once, Alfred seemed speechless. While Arthur contemplated letting him stumble through the somewhat annoying question, Arthur decided to save him.

"Special relationship," he said. Ms. Taylor frowned.

"What?"

"Alfred and I have a very special relationship," he said. _'You're welcome, Alfred.' _He cleared his throat. "No matter what you call it," he finished. Ms. Taylor was beaming now.

"That's very sweet," she said. "Well, boys, thanks so much for taking the time to talk for your graduating class!"

"Hey, no sweat!" said Alfred, at the same time Arthur said, "It's been a pleasure." Ms. Taylor smiled widely. She seemed to smile as much as Alfred did, only her smile grated on Arthur's nerves a bit.

"And, this wraps our Gage Jason High School Class of '00 Reunion! Don't leave all at once, now, there's sure to be traffic. Say your goodbyes, and exit to the left out of these doors. Goodbye, everyone!" Arthur took the opportunity to storm offstage.

"What's wrong?" asked Alfred, who was following him. What was wrong? Was he that dense, really? Granted, he had never been one to be able to read the atmosphere, but was he so stupid that he couldn't figure this one out?

"That was humiliating," Arthur hissed into Alfred's ear. "I want to die," he added, and Alfred hugged him, squeezing his shoulders.

"Come on, baby, don't be like that," he said, and Arthur had to seriously contemplate whether or not he was being sarcastic. "Personally, I feel a huge relief. Like, all of that sexual tension is just _gone,_" he said, and he smirked at Arthur. "Well, not _all _gone," he said, giving him a cheesy wink. Arthur really, really hoped that he wasn't blushing, but knew that he probably was.

"Yes, well-" Just as Arthur tried vainly to come up with something to say, Feliciano approached them both.

"Yay! I didn't know you two were official! I'm so happy," he said, giggling slightly. Arthur noticed that his elbow was looped through Ludwig's, like a schoolgirl might have done. He was probably girlier than some females he knew, and mental images of Elizabeta and Natalia came to mind.

"Why are you happy?" asked Arthur, genuinely confused. Why did Feliciano even care?

"Because, you two have loved each other since you met," he said plainly. "You were best friends, and everyone saw it but you too." He giggled slightly. "You two really do have a special relationship."

Ludwig nodded in agreement. "I think you really summed it up well, Arthur." Huh. Arthur had seriously considered the possibility that Ludwig was incapable of speech; that was how little he talked. Of course, he knew it was possible that he talked and just didn't talk to _him. _

Alfred smiled. "Yeah, you really saved me there, man. I just blanked out, but you came to my rescue. Don't make a habit out of it though. I'm the hero in this relationship," and his smile broadened. R-relationship? What? Did that mean-?

Arthur coughed. "Well, if you keep acting like a damsel, I'll have no choice but to 'make a habit out of it'," he said, smiling a little bit. Everyone laughed, even though Arthur had only said it because he wanted to distract himself from what Alfred had said. _Relationship. _The word and its possibilities, its connotations, sent a tingle down his spine.

"Anyway," sang Feliciano, "we really should be going, but it's been amazing talking to you guys! I hope you can come to our wedding!" He shot a quick glance at Ludwig. "They're invited, aren't they?" Nod, nod. "Great, so I hope you can make it! Bye!"

Alfred grinned. "Man, that guy. So happy. They do make a good pair, though. Like foil. They have that whole opposites attract t thing going. Kind of like we do." There was that hinting again. What were they, exactly? Arthur found himself wanting so much more than 'it's complicated', than 'best friends', or even 'best friends with benefits,' and it even shocked himself. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but then the former 33 approached them.

"You two! Why didn't you say anything?" asked Elizabeta, almost squealing. Arthur heard himself let out a squeaking noise as she hugged him tightly. "I knew that there was something, I knew it!" she cried. Arthur looked at his feet.

Gilbert had a smirk on his face. "I fucking knew it!" he exclaimed. "Nothing gets past the awesome me!" He stuck his tongue out at Roderich, who only rolled his eyes. "Who's seeing things that aren't there, now? I knew they were doing it, all this time, I just knew it!" The exuberance with which he drove his point home frightened Arthur.

"Hey, Gilbert?" asked Alfred. The question had seemingly come out of the blue.

"Yeah?" It looked like he was just as surprised as Arthur was by the sudden question."

"Why did you name your band thirty-three, anyway?"

Simultaneously, Elizabeta, Roderich, and Gilbert groaned. "That's a long story," began Gilbert. "And now you all have to hear it."

Elizabeta huffed and rolled her eyes. "It is not a long story," she said matter-of-factly.

"It is if you tell it right."

"Don't listen to him. Basically, we were supposed to be three-cubed, not three-three. You know, like an exponent? Three cubed is nine, anyway, but it was Gilbert's idea and he thought it would be cool. Well, anyway, when we went to get the T-Shirts made, there was a misprint, and instead of looking like three to the power of three, it just looked like thirty three. None of us had the money to fix it, so we ran with it. The end." She glared at Gilbert. "There. I told it right, and it wasn't long."

Gilbert sulked. "You did not tell it right," he said, his hands on his hips. "You forgot about the part where I'm awesome. Oh wait, never mind, you did tell it right, because any story with me in it has underlying subtext about how awesome I am!"

"Um, 'underlying subtext?' Why can't you sound that intelligent about anything else, Gilbert?" Roderich was now speaking. "Anyway, we have to be going now, but it was lovely seeing you both again. Oh, and congratulations."

"Wait," said Arthur. "You all have to go? Do you live with each other?"

"Um, yeah? Duh? We lived off-campus through college and we've pretty much stayed in the same house since," said Gilbert, as if this was obvious to everyone. What Arthur really wanted to ask was whether or not Elizabeta had decided who she wanted to be with, since the relationship of 33 (oh, it was 3 cubed, he remembered again) was one like a soap opera. Thankfully, Alfred lacked the class to realize that this was a rude thing to do, and he must have been wondering too, because he asked them.

"Hey, Elizabeta, did you ever end up with anybody?"

She gave them a sad smile. "To make a long story short, no, because I couldn't decide and ended up with neither of them. So they got with each other."

"What?" Arthur heard his voice merge with Alfred's as they both expressed the same sentiment; it wasn't until a few seconds later that he realized Gilbert and Roderich had asked the same thing.

"Well, it's not official. _Yet,_" she said, and she smirked. "I mean, do you think they _never?_ Come on!"

"Ugh, Lizzy, we don't _talk _about that, it was one fucking night, can't you just let it go?" Wait, so it was true? Wow. Some things really did change. Who knew?

"Honestly, Elizabeta, you're embarrassing everyone," said Roderich, his face slightly red. Well. Apparently there had been more to 33 than met the eye.

"I keep trying to initiate a threesome, but they won't do it. One of these days," she said, and laughed. "Seriously though, what we have is pretty complicated, involving a lot of 'love triangle' stuff, but to simplify, everyone loves everyone, whether they like it or not." Huh. That actually summed up Arthur's impression of 33 pretty well. Who knew.

Elizabeta checked her watch. "Ooh, Roddy's right though, we really do need to be going. Goodbye, boys! I wish only the best for you." She walked away with Roderich, but Gilbert stayed behind.

"Hey, yeah, it was pretty cool seeing you. Arthur, you're an honorary member of 33 anyway, and Alfred, you're almost as awesome as I am. Hope to see you around. Visit G-Squared, I can get you a killer discount!" he said, and then he ran off to catch up with Elizabeta and Roderich.

Arthur looked at the floor. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but lacked the courage to ask them out loud. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, a line from a song from so long ago popped into his head.

'_Boys like you love me forever,' _

Why did that have to be so damn true? He had a vague recollection of dancing to that song at prom. He laughed to himself nervously when he remembered Alfred singing along.

"Alfred," he began, looking him directly in the eyes. "At prom, when we danced, who were you singing to?"

As far as questions went, it was a pretty odd one, and somewhat stupid. He had so many more important ones, and yet this one seemed like it would answer all of his others. It didn't even make sense, really. In all likelihood, Alfred had forgotten about it altogether, and would look at him like he was crazy. But for whatever reason, he needed to know, and that was why he felt his face light up when Alfred responded.

"You. Of course it was you, Arthur. It was always you," and he almost sounded melancholy. "I can't believe you had to ask that, was I ever subtle or something?" So it wasn't the most cheerful answer in the world. Arthur didn't care, because after hearing 'you', nothing else mattered. It was very odd, he thought, how so much meaning could be attached to a mindless pop song. Suddenly, Alfred's voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, Arthur?" 

"What?"

"Where do you live?" Well, it was an innocent enough question, he decided. Though at the beginning of the night he would have never thought it possible, he now found himself opening up the notepad function in Alfred's phone and punching in his address in the keypad. The worst case scenario was that Alfred would break in and kill him, but even then, at least it was Alfred doing the killing.

'_Wow,' _he thought, _'I really do have it bad.' _He wondered when he had accepted his feelings. He could swear he had been in denial just a second ago, but he had ceased to see the point in doing so. For some reason, it was just easier to love someone than it was to hate them. Still, even if those were strong words, it was hard for Arthur to admit to any positive feelings towards anyone. He wondered when he had been so open. He thought it was when the words 'special relationship' had popped out of his mouth. Why did those words fit them so well?

"Sweet! Now I can stalk you," said Alfred, doing a fist pump.

"Go right ahead," said Arthur, laughing despite himself. When was the last time he had laughed? It was like his life had become dreary and he hadn't noticed.

"Can I get your cell, too? Maybe your home phone? 'Cause, that'd be great," he said, speaking a bit faster than he normally did. Arthur was flattered, and happy to give his information, but somehow his inner cynic wasn't pleased. What did Alfred need all of this information for? He had the sudden urge to stop himself from being too happy, as if being disappointed was an inevitability.

"You probably think I'm going to rapekill you or something, but that really isn't it. I know I sound like a total stalker right now, and that sucks, but I just don't want it to be like last time, you know? You didn't talk to me, you ignored me. And, I guess it was my fault too, you know. Like, I could have made more of an effort. So here it is. This is my effort. Mark my words, Arthur Kirkland, I am not letting you get away this time." It was remarkable how he sounded both serious and joking, both somber and sarcastic. How did he do it?

"Fine," said Arthur, smiling again. Why was he smiling so much? It was odd, but he thought nothing more of it. "Maybe I don't want to get away." Wait, was this flirting? It was, wasn't it? This was so new to Arthur. Being playful and teasing wasn't something he was used to at all. He hoped he was doing it right.

"Hey," said Alfred suddenly, "are you doing anything next Saturday?" _'In all likelihood I am,' _he thought with a pang of sadness that only shocked him a little bit, and he pulled out his phone to check its built in planner. To his other shock, he was completely free that day. Two free Saturdays in a row? It was almost like the universe liked him or something.

"You won't believe this, but no, I'm not. Why?"

"Because I want to break into your house, and I want it to be a day you aren't home. Why do you think? I want to have you over, or, or get coffee, or hell, even go to freakin' G-Squared. I just want to see you. You're going to be my best friend if it kills you," he said, smiling widely.

Oh. Was friends all he wanted, after all of this? Arthur sighed. He didn't really have any friends, and now that he had seen Alfred again, the thought of not seeing him seemed unbearable. "Sure," he said meekly, "best friends, just like before." Would this be the topper of the list of everything that had been the same?

Alfred tilted his head to the side slightly. "Well," he began, stretching out the word 'well', "I wouldn't say just like before," he said thoughtfully.

"Really, and why is that?" Before he could completely finish the word 'that', Alfred's lips were pressed against his, though only for a second. It wasn't a chaste kiss, not exactly, but it wasn't full-on making out.

"Because we can do things like that, and it won't be weird or awkward. Or at least, that's the dream, anyway."

Arthur was astonished. Unless all this time he _was _having a fever dream, it seemed to him like this was Alfred's incredibly convoluted way of asking him to be his boyfriend. Of course, Arthur did have the tendency to jump to conclusions, but it didn't seem like there was much else he could be suggesting. He felt an involuntary smile spread across his face.

"So, next Saturday? Coffee, gaming, what?" asked Alfred, who was looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

Arthur was horrible at making plans, but he decided to try his best. "Well, maybe we could go somewhere to eat, perhaps see a movie afterwards, and then I could show you my place?" Wow. That had sounded cheesy, humiliating, and perverted all at the same time.

Laughter. "Well, you get minus ten points for originality, but you get plus points because of the sexual implications of what you just said. Partly because I bet you didn't even mean to do that," he said, grinning.

"Right! Of course I didn't! Mean to do that, I mean. Anyway! I guess I'll see you then?" Why was he stammering? Why hadn't the speech therapy class he had taken in his childhood warned him that reverting to old habits was particularly likely in front of cute boys? Damn it to hell.

"Okay, we'll work out the details tomorrow. Bye," he said, but didn't leave. They stood there looking at each other for a few seconds, and then Alfred hugged him. What Arthur couldn't figure out was how to categorize it. It was more than a best-friends hug, but it wasn't as lusty as a best-friends with benefits hug, either. It was warm, and Alfred's hands were at the small of his back, and his hands were around Alfred's neck, but he couldn't think of a name. Maybe it was better that way; he wasn't sure.

After a while, they separated, and Arthur spoke. "What do you call that, Alfred?"

He looked at him thoughtfully, as if he had been wondering the same thing. Finally, his face lit up. "You know what, Artie? I know what you're thinking, and I've come up with a solution. Of course, you helped some, but never mind that!" Arthur rolled his eyes, but found himself amused rather than annoyed.

"Do tell," he said, smirking at him.

"You have just been special-relationship hugged. Cherish it as much as I did! See you soon," he said, blowing him a kiss as he walked away.

All in all, Arthur had completely dreaded this stupid reunion, but in the end things had worked out, hadn't they? He left the room a while after Alfred did, and walked into the parking lot. His mind was on Alfred, of course, but not just him. It was more of them, in fact; their mannerisms, their inside jokes, the way he sometimes felt like they were half of the same person, that everything he was missing Alfred had, as if to make up for it. Arthur had gone to the reunion expecting nothing but the worst, and he was leaving it expecting nothing but the best.

It really was remarkable what all had changed.


End file.
